


You Can't Push it Underground

by Helena_Hathaway



Series: You Will Be the Death of Me [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Blind Date, Brendon OD's on Pringles, Brendon is reason enough to read this, Brendon is seriously fantastic, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone feels bad for Gerard because Frank is SUCH an idiot, Fluff and Humor, Frank is such an idiot, Frerard, Happy Ending, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Mormonism, Neighbors, Oddly enough there's no smut, One Night Stands, Sexual Content, There's a lot of talking about sex though, Unresolved Sexual Tension, annoying neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 35,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helena_Hathaway/pseuds/Helena_Hathaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, it all starts when his new neighbors move in. Frank didn’t know it was possible to hate two people so much, but they don’t leave him alone! He’d do anything to get them to stop bothering him, which is why he makes a bet with Brendon. It’s the neighbors that lead him to the bet, but it’s the bet that leads him to Gerard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://s1291.photobucket.com/user/Sexy_Bread_Tin/media/YouCantPushitUnderground_zpsc251143e.png.html)  
>  This was going to be a one-shot, but then I was like “no there’s too much story to tell for it to be a one-shot.” Title is obviously from the Muse song ‘Time is Running Out.’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright lets get things rolling.

Now it’s not like Frank is someone who seeks out conflict. He’d say that he’s a pretty down to earth, friendly, loving guy, but there are some people who are just _begging_ to be argued with. 

That big brawny guy in line at the gas station tapping his foot when you take too long paying for your diet coke, he is just asking to be yelled at. The little six year old boy whose game of basketball you accidentally interrupted and started staring up to you with those eyes, he’s just asking to be scolded. The kid in your third period class who just joined the debate team the day prior, they’re just asking to have a rowdy discussion with you.

The one who’s really aggravating Frank though is that new bitch of a neighbor. Well it’s both of them to be exact, but it’s the woman that really gets on Frank’s nerves. A close-minded Mormon couple with twelve framed pictures of Jesus in their entry way. They have seven bumper stickers that all spew religious garbage. One of them is an anti-abortion thing, another says that Satan will gladly take God’s rejects, another trying to debunk evolution, and a few more that are a little less polite than that.

Honestly, Frank believes in believing whatever the hell you want. He could not care less what you think, what you believe, or who you look up to, he just doesn’t want it to affect _him_. They’re your beliefs not his, and he doesn’t want to hear about it. Go suck up to your god, Frank’s going to go suck a dick.

The thing is that he’s never felt like he needed saving. He never felt like virginity was anything special that had to be saved, and he’s never seen the sense of depraving yourself of basic human decency just so that you can get the approval of someone who’s never proved themselves to you. He just wants to have sex with random strangers in the comfort of his own home without being lectured about the sanctity of it all. It doesn’t seem fair to him, he didn’t ask to have nosy neighbors!

The fact is that religion is not something that can be pushed down the throats of people. If you decline the embrace of Jesus _once_ from your pushy neighbor, then they should accept that as your answer. What they should not do is stuff pamphlets under your door at all hours of the day, clutter your mailbox with God preaching stickers, and knock on your door at inconvenient intervals à la Kevin Price.

Mormons are the nice ones who hate you and think you're going to hell for all eternity where you will have stalagmites shoved up your ass for sinning, but never say it to your face. That’s what Frank’s neighbors are emanating every time he catches them looking at him evilly from their heavily draped parlor. It’s a ‘parlor’ because they’re arrogant pricks who think the term ‘parlor’ sounds posher then the proper term of living room. It’s a fucking living room, it’s not the Buckingham palace.

No matter how sugarcoated they like to make their words sound, Frank is not an idiot. They regard him as the utmost filth of humanity. The Sinclair’s want Frank to be an entirely different person than he is. Specifically they want him to be straight, clean, a virgin, unpierced, and without tattoos. Looks like they’re not going to get their way though. He isn’t going to change for anyone, most of all not those pricks.

“You could try putting a fence up, you know,” Brendon says.

“No it’s against the rules to put one up. I’d have to pay a fine or some shit, and it wouldn’t stop them. They’d attach signs to it and walk through the gate. I just have to put up with it.”

“What about not answering the door?” he asks. 

Frank groans, “They never accept me ignoring the ringing doorbell though! If they even _think_ I’m home they’ll ring that bitch for twenty minutes. They wake up at eight in the morning as well, and don’t understand that some people like sleeping in. Some people are fucking nocturnal, and don’t want to answer the door at ungodly hours!”

“Then it sucks for you, man,” Brendon snorts. Brendon, like most of Frank’s friends is a flamboyant homosexual, because having straight friends is strange. A lot of people can be like lemmings, they attract people of their kind, and often exclude others. It’s not like Frank is necessarily opposed to straight people, he just doesn’t know where to meet them. Where do you find an actual straight person in this day and age? Someone who’s not even a little gay?

“You could try telling them to piss off though,” Brendon says.

“You’d think they’d get the message when you say something like that, but they have temporary memory loss. Tried it once and they came back, so I tried bigger words, because I assumed their pompous little minds only understood Victorian English, but ‘I would be most gratified if thou would eradicate thine self from my cloistered residence forthwith or I shall be disposed to kickist thou where the solar rays do not gleam,’ didn’t work.”

“I take it they weren’t fond of that.”

Frank nods, “not particularly, no.”

“Ah, but the question is do they know you’re gay, or do they just want you to find your salvation?”

“I’d say that the likelihood of their knowing I’m gay is a little more than a possibility.”

Brendon frowns, “what did you do?’

“I may have brought home a good looking dude and opened the window while they were gardening.”

“You made them listen to you fucking?”

“I didn’t make them do anything, if they were eavesdropping then they have no one to blame but themselves.”

“You, my dear friend, are a smartass, and some day it is going to get you into a great bit of trouble,” Brendon states.

“What are they going to do? They’re Mormons! Mormons are the ones who act nice to your face, but think awful things about you behind your back.”

“You’re stereotyping,” Brendon points out.

“Oh shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s just that those two have been passive aggressive at best.”

“What you really need is a good boyfriend so you can have him answer the door for you. Someone nice, who will do it for you because he loves you,” Brendon says.

“That would be nice, but I’m a one-night stand kind of guy,” Frank replies.

“You just haven’t found him yet,” Brendon answers.

“God, Ryan has turned you soft hasn’t he?” Frank says.

“What can I say, I am a fool in love.”

“Whatever. Find me the right man, Brendon, and I’ll consider him.”

“Is that a challenge, Iero?” Brendon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess so,” Frank shrugs.

“Want to make that a bet of sorts?” he asks with a wicked grin.

“What kind of a bet are we talking here?”

Brendon thinks for a moment and then opens his mouth cheerily and says, “I find you a guy that’ll answer the door for you, and who you’ll fall in love with. In return I get back the Les Paul you took from me in poker.”

“It’s not my fault you suck at reading people, and why should I give it back, I won that thing fair and square?” Frank replies.

“That would be the point of the bet, nimrod,” Brendon says. “Besides, you make more money than me, I can’t afford a new one.”

“Are those you’re parameters? You find me a boyfriend who’s going to fall madly in love with me, and all you want is my guitar?”

“Well he’s got to answer the door for you, and it can’t be one way. I’ll find you someone who you love back,” Brendon says.

Frank has never believed in love. Never ever. Ever never. Never ever ever never. Nuh-uh. Nope. A million times no with a side of hell no. There’s just no appeal to the idea. Attaching yourself to another person, and giving them the power to hurt you? What utter nonsense. It seems so impractical. Why the hell would anyone willingly chuck themselves down that rabbit hole? It’s illogical for one thing, and if Frank’s going to be honest, it’s just plain imbecilic.

Society is so negative about being alone. Apparently you’re only ever complete if you’ve got someone with you. Frank isn’t that stupid. He doesn’t need anyone to be complete, and he doesn’t really want anyone.

He’s not bitter about a failed romantic relationship as his mother, father, coworkers, friends, acquaintances, mailman, grocer, barber, therapist, doctor, superintendent, and dogs seem to think. Everyone is always trying to impend on his right to being alone, by trying to show him the wonder of love.

Frank kind of thinks that love is just a myth told to make people feel like they’re not completely alone on this shithole of a planet. Everyone’s clinging onto this rotating clump of space debris and they have the self-righteous idea that there’s a supernatural force pairing people up like people are nothing more than puppets? Frank believes more in radioactive penguins then love.

The irony is in the fact that Frank lives in a society which believes so wholeheartedly in love, that it’s actually considered wrong to not have anyone. Love is fact, and there’s no question about that. Frank sees it every day, everywhere he looks, but part of him doesn’t think it’s real. He thinks it’s just this fog that crawls over a person when they want to believe. If you want to believe in it, you will, but he’s smarter than that. He doesn’t want to be a part of that system, he just wants to walk alone, a permanent bachelor who’s shacked up with half of the male population of New Jersey. Just because he doesn’t believe in love doesn’t mean he doesn’t like getting dick, because he _definitely_ likes getting dick.

Frank chuckles, “What a stupid wager! Ain’t no one out there I want to fall in love with. I don’t do love, I do meaningless fucking with near-strangers.”

“Whatever man, you in or out?”

“Well what do I get if you can’t find me this nonexistent human?”

Brendon thinks for another long moment before saying, “I’ll buy you a nice security system. Something so inconvenient they’ll be forced to just leave you alone.”

“Alright, sounds good,” Frank says, after thinking it over. It’s not a guarantee to keep them away, but it should do a lot to deter them. The Sinclair’s are very good at perseverance, but they strike him as the kind of people who are mortally terrified of having legal problems, so an alarm should scare them enough.

“So what d’ya want me to look for in the guy?” Brendon asks, looking like he’s just been given the biggest assignment of his life.

“Vibrant red hair,” Frank jokes.

“Yeah, okay, but what actually?”

“I like superficial boys, Brendon. An idiot, who isn’t smarter than me. Not prettier than me either, I want to be the eye candy. Oh, and make sure he doesn’t make me look like a dwarf.”

“But you _are_ a dwarf,” Brendon remarks.

“Shut up,” Frank answers.

“Right fine, you have such impractical taste. No one actually wants an idiot with a six pack bulkier than his brain.”

Frank shrugs, “what can I say? I like ‘em dumb and sexy.”

“I’m not going to find you an idiot, Frank. You’re going to have to settle with someone who’s smart enough to hold a conversation. I’ll get you your perfect man, and you are going to love him like you love raunchy horror films. Then I’ll tell this story verbatim as I’m giving the best man’s speech at you two’s wedding.”

“Yeah whatever. Good luck, but I look forward to my new security system.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapters are always scary. What do we think? Promising or no?


	2. The First Applicant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Patrick.

“I found you this one guy that you might like,” Brendon says. “You have a blind date with him, tonight at seven, so cancel whatever you’re doing.”

“Well that’s a little short notice. What’s the guy’s name?” Frank looks at his watch to see that it’s pushing five o’clock already. It’s been a day and Brendon’s already found a victim. 

“Patrick. And trust me, he’s definitely not going to make you look like a dwarf.”

“Ah yes, but does he have vibrant red hair?” Frank says.

“Haha. Sadly he does not, but he’s a looker. You’re kind of an ugly fellow yourself Frank, so he might be prettier than you,” Brendon says.

“That’s very sweet of you to say. I hate you very much.”

“Figured. Call me as soon as the date is over, or the day after if you fuck him senseless.”

“Well, you know me,” Frank says with a shrug.

“That’s why I added that bit at the end. I think you’ll... well I don’t know. You’re kind of pretentious. Patrick is fantastic. If I were not spoken for I would totally go for it, but I am, so I won’t. He’s great, but you’re _you_. This is kind of like a trial to start out though. He’s just the first one though, so tell me how you feel about him, and I’ll go from there accordingly,” Brendon says.

“Fine, what’s he look like?” Frank asks.

“Short. Shorter than you,” Brendon replies.

“So he’s what? Like three feet tall?” 

“Okay, calm down, he’s like two inches shorter than you,” Brendon says.

“Still short,” Frank replies.

“Yes, he is still short. He’s a friend of Ryan’s. They went to college together or something. I have been told he rather enjoys trivia, but I didn’t talk enough to him to figure out if that was true.”

“Right fine, where am I meeting him?” Frank asks, grabbing a notepad to write it all down.

Brendon gives him the name of the restaurant and then instructs him to wait at the bar for Patrick. According to Brendon he looks “baby faced” and “a little bit like an angel, but don’t tell Ryan I said that.”

Frank would be cheating if he stood the guy up, of course. He can’t cheat out on his and Brendon’s deal, because that would be wrong. So as uncharacteristic as it sounds, Frank _does_ actually show up to the bar, a few minutes late, but it’s not too bad.

It’s a small restaurant that he would not normally have any interest in going to, because Frank’s usual place of hangout is the gay bar, but apparently that was out of the cards for a first date. Frank’s rather promiscuous, though he doesn’t see it that way, because he just sees it as a good time, but apparently it would’ve been inappropriate. Frank tried to remind Brendon that he is, in fact, inappropriate, but Brendon insisted, so he finds himself here. 

It’s a Friday night, he doesn’t have work tomorrow, so that means he would very much like to fuck tonight, but instead he’s here. Hopefully Patrick is not a bore, but Brendon has such bland taste. Still, he’ll try to be open-minded, he’s just not going to be happy about it.

He steps into the place, and looks around to find the bar which is just around the corner. The room is fairly dark, and the ambiance is both excessive and dim, so it looks like he’s just entered the bottom of a cave. The carpet is out of place because it doesn’t make sense to use nice carpeting in a restaurant of all places, where people can spill stuff. Frank just sighs, and walks around the turn to see a long counter that stretches to the other wall. There’s four people at the bar, two women, an older looking fellow, and a guy that matches Brendon’s description of Patrick.

Frank cringes because he’s wearing a fedora, though he doesn’t judge him quite yet. He’s looking around the room, as if searching for someone specific. Frank walks nearer to him, where he’s sitting at the other end of the bar which is the furthest and most inconvenient place to get to from where Frank is. When he gets closer, Patrick’s eyes fall on him and he eases up a bit, because he apparently didn’t like sitting alone or something.

“Frank?”

“That would be my name,” Frank says, “You’re Patrick then.”

He nods, and Frank grins, “Brendon told me that if I called you Pattycakes I’d see just how hard a short guy can kick you in the balls.”

Patrick shrugs and the nod suggests that it’s completely factual.

“But then I told him that I _am_ a short guy, I know precisely how hard I can kick,” Frank finishes, and sits on the stool next to Patrick.

“That’s why I sit so much, because it’s harder to tell,” Patrick says.

Frank snickers, “well then I’ll do the same. Though I think people will notice that our feet dangle.”

Patrick looks down and nods, “most people aren’t observant enough.”

“I think this is the first conversation I’ve had with someone who was shorter than me,” Frank says. Patrick seems to feel that two inches isn’t enough to be categorically different, but Frank just thinks he’s being overly defensive. Frank wants to try to demonstrate how big a difference two inches can make in phallic exemplification, but they’ve only just met so he decides he’d better not.

“Have you ever held a conversation without sarcasm?” Patrick asks.

“It’s been years since I last did, though I guess it’s possible if I put my mind to it,” Frank replies. “Did Brendon describe me as a sarcastic, sadistic asshole, because that seems to be the introduction he gives to everyone? Mind you, I am not a sadist, I just find it amusing to watch people blush.”

“I think his words were actually ‘ostentatious, but there’s some sort of soul in there if you dig really deep.’”

“That sounds about right. Though you aren’t going to dig deep enough with a shovel, you’ll need a bulldozer.”

Overall, after having a conversation with the guy for ten minutes, Frank decides no. Patrick is nice and all, but he’s not Frank’s type. He’s sweet, but he’d be better suited with a nicer guy, and Frank isn’t exactly that guy. He’d gladly point you in the direction of that nicer guy, but he’d run away from the responsibility of _being_ that nicer guy.

“I am a firm believer in the fallibility of love at first sight, and would thus like to say that there’s definitely no hint of such a thing between us, Patrick. Do I consent that it is possible? I suppose it may be, though I would favor the word lust over love, and I more than believe in lust upon minimal inspection. There may be some of that here, but to say it’s anything more would be a lie to both you and me. I’m a strong purveyor of honesty though, and I don’t think I have enough of an emotional connection with you to even consider a repeat of this evening. I hope that doesn’t offend you, because, honestly you are such a nice, sweet person. The problem is in the fact that I don’t really like sweet, I like passionate, and I’m not saying you can’t be the latter, but I know one thing for sure is that I don’t believe we have a connection. I think you’re really great though, don’t get me wrong, but I am not the kind of guy you would be well-suited for,” Frank says longwindedly.

“That’s a lot of words to cram into telling me you’re not attracted to me,” Patrick says, but he doesn’t look particularly upset by the pronouncement.

“I’ve been reading up on the art of being sesquipedalian, because my neighbors are the most arrogant, vapid people I’ve ever met. They only seem to hear you if you use big words.”

“That sounds awful, do they bother you?”

“Day and night, and night and day. I’m getting so close to blowing their house up you have no idea. The danger is in the fact that my house might catch fire too, and I don’t really want that, you know? Like, that sounds inconvenient.”

“What did you mean a minute ago about lust? It’s hard to follow when you word things so volubly.”

“Ah, that I don’t really agree with the mental idea of love at first sight, but I have no trouble in vouching for _lust_ at first sight. You’re not bad looking yourself, Patrick.”

“So I’m under that heading then? Should I feel disrespected?”

“What? Why would you be disrespected? I called you good-looking.”

Patrick shrugs, “Fair enough.”

“So you wanna get out of here?”

~*~*~*~

“So I’m guessing you two-”

“That is none of your concern, dearest Brendon, but if you’re curious, then yes we did,” Frank replies, grinning out the window. It’s far too early to be awake, considering when he knocked out last night, but it’s too late to turn back now. “Patrick isn’t for me though, man. He’s good looking and such, but I have to say that you can do better. He’s far too nice, I don’t like nice. Find me someone a little ruder. Not too rude, mind, but I don’t want a guy that’s going to treat me like a lady. If you hadn’t noticed, I ain’t no lady.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” Brendon replies with condemnation.

“Ha ha, you’re hilarious, now try again. Preferably it’ll be a weekend so I can-” 

“Please don’t finish that sentence. I will try my best, though I don’t know as many jackasses as you do.”

“Are you saying I’m a jackass?” Frank asks.

“You are a fucking magnet for douchebags, Frank,” Brendon replies.

“Ah well then I’m not a douchebag myself. I can’t be! You took eighth grade science, Brendon, you know as well as I do that a magnet only attracts opposites.”

“It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

“Yeah, whatever. You know what to do, now get on it,” Frank orders, and Brendon groans.

“You seem to think I have a cesspool of guys at my beck and call, when I do have to do a little digging for this.”

“Yeah whatever. Do your thing. Friend of a friend or whatever, I don’t care. I just want you to give up soon so that I can get rid of those fucking pests.”

“They’re not flies or something, Frank!”

“Says you,” Frank replies. The comparison of a fly to his neighbors is quite extraordinary though. Both hang about when you don’t want them around, and both are filled with utter shit.

“Yeah whatever, I’ll call you with updates,” Brendon answers, and the phone hangs up a second later.

Frank sighs and collapses onto his couch, ready to watch meaningless weekend shows, when he’s interrupted by the doorbell. His eyes roll so far up into his skull, you’d think he was cast in the next Exorcist film.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are only so many band members I can use and I love Patrick so I used Patrick.


	3. Two in a Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon is scheduling a bunch of dates.

It takes Brendon all of three days to find another guy, but Frank asks to push the date back until the following Friday. Brendon refuses however, and they come to agree on meeting halfway so it’s set for Wednesday night, which is a stupid day to go on a date. By the time that it gets to be Wednesday, Frank has seen his neighbors a grand total of six times. They just don’t give up, it’s actually kind of impressive.

Apparently the next contender, if that’s even the right word, is named Dallon and Brendon has once again been unable to find anyone who isn’t a little bit of a jackass. He only knows nice people, which is upsetting to Frank, but it’s not like he’s going to complain. He wants Brendon to lose, that’s obvious, and he’s pretty sure that Brendon _will_ lose. Frank is picky, and he just doesn’t believe in love so it’s nearly impossible.

“Brendon, how long is it going to take for you to give up? I mean we both know how much I disapprove of relationships. It seems so pointless to try,” Frank says.

“Frank, I just think you need to find that one guy. That one dude! You’re too set in your ways to look for him yourself though. Believe it or not, I’m trying to do you a favor,” Brendon says.

“What favor is that? I’m great at getting myself my own dates, I don’t need you to do it for me.”

“First of all, picking up guys at a bar and taking them home is not a date. There’s nothing wrong with it, that’s your lifestyle, but it’s not a date. That’s a hookup. Second of all, you only choose insipid guys who are more brawn then brains, and that’s part of the reason why you don’t think you want a relationship. I’m not saying that ultimately you’re wrong, because for all I know, you’re an aromantic homosexual, but it’s also possible that you’re just looking in all the wrong places.”

Frank groans, “okay, but what’s your deadline then? Cutoff date?”

“I don’t know,” Brendon shrugs. “How about the end of November?”

Frank sighs, mentally adding it up to realize that that’s about two months away. At least it’s not indefinite or something, because then Frank would never get that security system.

“Okay, but how about a maximum number of guys?” Frank asks.

“Ugh, not fair. You only let me schedule things for the weekend, except for this guy, but I can’t guarantee all of them are going to be like that. Maybe you’ll go for a coffee date with somebody. I don’t know, just keep your schedule open, and I am not going to limit the number of people I’ll be optioning.”

“Whatever. I know I’m going to win,” Frank says haughtily.

“Whatever you say,” Brendon rolls his eyes, “but I think you’re seriously underestimating my talent.”

~*~*~*~

On Thursday morning Frank wakes up as he usually does. He still has to go to work and the guy beside him in his bed isn’t going to stop him. What can he say? Frank’s got game, and apparently his charm is not strictly focused towards the weekends.

It’s not like he really clicked with the Dallon guy though, so he doesn’t have much remorse when he has to kick the guy out of his house, as politely as one can possibly do. Frank may be a little rude and prickly, but he’s not an inherently bad person, and he doesn’t actually like to hurt people’s feelings. Dallon doesn’t seem to mind, he has work to get to as well.

Brendon had preemptively gotten Frank yet another date, because he’d assumed Frank was going to turn down Dallon. Why did he even set the date up is something Frank doesn’t understand, but he’s decided not to question it.

“Two dates actually,” Brendon says.

“One of them is on Friday night, and another is Saturday afternoon.”

“Cool it, bro. You found two guys? How’d you do that so fast?”

“I’m made of magic. The guy on Friday is named Pete, and he’s a friend of Patrick’s. I don’t know much about him, and to be honest, I haven’t even met the guy, but I’m doing my best. It’s hard to find people who you haven’t slept with, Frank. There’s only one proper gay bar in town for hooking up with other dudes, and you’ve checked off everyone who’s even a semi-regular there.”

“I know, but I am very talented.”

“I’ll say,” Brendon replies, and he does actually mean it. He has to give Frank credit for being able to sleep with practically anyone he sets his mind to. Also it’s pretty remarkable that he managed to have sex on a weekday. That takes skill.

“What about the second guy on, uh, Saturday?” Frank asks, trying not to muddle the dates together.

“I know even less about this guy. The brother of a friend of Ray’s.”

“Well what’s his name?” Frank asks.

“I don’t even know that much. All I know is that Ray said he’s stuck in one of those on-again off-again relationships, and everyone who knows him wants him to be off,” Brendon says.

“Well that’s just fantastic, you want me to be a rebound,” Frank states.

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s right. I’m saying that he is currently single, and that his brother is desperate for him to either stay that way or find someone new. I guess I understand that, I’ve been through a similar situation. I’ll tell you more about him when I have more information myself. I’m going to hang with Ray on Friday so the dude might tag along. Hopefully I’ll get you his name, at least. If the date gets cancelled for some reason, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

“Why would it get cancelled? I am perfect!” Frank states.

“You are self-absorbed, and if the current off-again turns into an on-again sometime before Saturday then it’ll get canceled.”

“That guy sounds whiny. Let him stay with the other guy, I don’t want someone who’s going to _complain_ about another guy. Why do I have-”

“Because we made a bet, and I found someone who’s going to be free. You don’t have to like him, and you don’t have to like Pete either, but you have to at least meet them.”

“Yeah, I know! I went on the other two dates didn’t I?” Frank points out.

“But you still fucked them.”

“Don’t judge me. You have your way of life, I have mine,” Frank responds.

“I’m not judging you! I just don’t agree with the whole one-night stand thing. It’s your life though,” Brendon defends.

“Okay good. I thought you were being demeaning there for a second.”

Frank often times does stay in touch with that string of guys though. With Frank, a one-night stand is not a ‘hey thanks for the good time, now never talk to me again,’ it’s more of a ‘hey thanks for the good time, it’s not going to happen again, but I’ll hang out with you if you want.’ That’s how he’s met a lot of his friends, though he never got into Brendon’s pants which is on one hand a little disappointing, but on another hand a big relief, because ew. After you’ve known someone for so long, it gets to be pretty disgusting to think of them sexually, and he’s known Brendon for over five years. That is why Brendon repulses him.

“Whatever. You’ll meet Pete tomorrow, okay? And then the other guy unless things go awry,” Brendon simplifies.

“Ugh, okay. When am I going to have like a weekend off though? This bet is seriously infringing on my free time.”

“You always have free time and you spend it the same way you do when you’re busy. Besides, I’m doing half the work for you! You would be scouting out for a guy anyway, and the time you save by having someone chosen for you means that you don’t have to try as hard.”

“Ah yes, but prowling is half the fun,” Frank says.

“Just meet the poor guy tomorrow.”

“Poor guy?”

“Yeah, he has a date with _you_.”

“Thanks for the praise,” Frank replies.

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	4. The Vibrant Redhead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Frank] came out to have a good time and [he's] honestly feeling so attacked right now.

“So how was Pete?” Brendon questions.

“Same as the other guys,” Frank shrugs.

“Are you even trying?” Brendon asks.

“I am!”

“Try a little harder. Especially for this guy, your next date, is just, wow. So I might be in love with him myself.”

“Oh?” Frank asks, liking how giddy Brendon sounds.

“Yep, I met your date for tonight at the bar yesterday,” Brendon starts.

“I gathered that. What about him?” Frank questions.

“Well I almost fainted. I didn’t know that humans came in such pretty packaging. He’s a phenomenal prototype. It’s almost a shame that he’s gay, because he really needs to spread his genes.”

“God, you sound so stupid when you say things like that. Like a preteen girl. So what’s this guys’ name? I’d like to know if I’m going out with him in a few hours,” Frank says, seeing that it’s pushing on noon already.

“Gerard,” Brendon says, and Frank can see Brendon smiling even over the phone. There’s a wicked glint to it that he doesn’t understand.

“And what is so special about this Gerard guy?”

“Oh trust me, you’ll figure it out when you meet him. I’m not going to tell you what he looks like, because I think it’s safe to say, you’ll know him when you see him.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank asks.

“Just trust me on this. I have a good feeling about Gerard.”

“You had a good feeling about the last guys too.”

“Gerard is different. He’s special, just you wait until you see him.”

“Alright mister optimist, I’m preparing to prove you wrong,” Frank says, cracking his knuckles ceremoniously.

“I’m not saying it’s going to work out with you two, I just definitely think he’s going to hold your attention. Hot damn was he a good looking bloke,” Brendon says dreamily.

“You have a boyfriend,” Frank states.

“I’d be open to polyamory if this guy was involved,” Brendon says, and then snorts, “Obviously that was a joke. I talked a lot to him, and he’s not exactly rude, but he’s no Patrick.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” Frank says dryly, because he doesn’t actually care the slightest bit about ‘Gerard.’

“You should be. God, I am excited! Is that stupid? I think I did a good job on this one, I have a really good feeling about him that I didn’t have with the others.”

“Don’t you think you’re overselling him a bit?” Frank points out.

“Shit, you’re right. You’re right, I’m overhyping him. He’s disgusting. Smells like rotten fish. Horrible personality, face that should have a paper bag over it. There, better?”

“He sounds delightful,” Frank answers.

“What do you want from me?” Brendon exasperates.

“I’m just teasing you, bro. I’m sure he’s fine!”

~*~*~*~

Frank arrives at the coffee place earlier than he’d intended to. He’s almost ten minutes early, which is weird for him. He just orders himself a coffee and resigns to waiting for Gerard. Frank finds a spot at a table in the corner and grabs a newspaper to keep his mind busy while he waits. There’s no one in here that could possibly be Gerard, because their either far too old or female.

A heterosexual couple walk in and place orders for themselves. Frank realizes after a few minutes that this is a pretty busy hub, because there’s more rowdiness then you typically see in a little coffee place.

There’s several people hiding him from view of the door, and Frank worries that his date’s already here, but he hasn’t even noticed. Frank’s definitely not worried that the guy came in, saw him, and left, because Frank is pretty good looking.

At long last a guy enters the coffee shop, and Brendon was right. He knows immediately that this guy is Gerard, because there’s no chance it _isn’t_ him.

Wouldn’t you know it, the son of a bitch has bright red hair. Brendon actually found him a guy with bright red hair. He must be so proud of himself, the cheeky little fuck.

He’s an incredibly noticeable guy. For one thing his hair is a siren, but apart from that, he’s also one of the prettiest guys Frank’s seen in months. He’s got these _eyes_ that are probably made from the essence of puppies, and oh man his face is well constructed. He’s the kind of guy who really just needs to give his parents a good hug, because they did a good job on him.

Frank looks at him and he looks around nervously. Frank kind of wishes he had a giant piece of paper with Gerard’s name on it like the kind that chauffeurs who meet people at airports use. Then he’d hold it up and Gerard would go over to him.

Frank slouches down in his seat slightly, because he distinctly remembers telling Brendon not to find someone more attractive than him. Frank’s not a boastful guy, but he’s comfortable with the way he looks, and he is aware that he’s attractive, but he’s not positive that Gerard isn’t better looking. Gerard could win a beauty pageant, and he isn’t even a chick.

Frank looks down at himself and straightens his clothes before standing up. He also pats down his hair, and takes a deep breath before walking over to where Gerard is now standing.

“Uh, Gerard?” Frank says, going up to him, and he turns and looks at Frank before responding.

“Frank?” he says.

“Mhm, yeah, I’m Frank. Can I just say, like before I say anything else, that wow, you are fucking gorgeous.”

Gerard’s eyes widen and his face flushes a pink color. Frank just grins at him, because there’s not much that could ruin that face. His hair is messy and windswept, his eyebrows strong and dark compared to the pale skin they’re against.

“Didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything, but if you didn’t realize that, then I’ve got some news for you bro,” Frank says, a little more amused than he should be. Frank, of course, has never really been one for being shy so sometimes he forgets how his personality is a little bewildering when he first meets people.

“Uh, sorry, just not how most people introduce themselves,” Gerard says.

“Well I’m not most people. I’m better than most people, and much more modest,” Frank jokes, and Gerard seems to get a little less uncomfortable, though he doesn’t necessarily ease up.

“I mean, you too. You’re... yeah,” Gerard says awkwardly.

“Oh I know, but it’s nice to hear it from other people,” Frank says grinning, and he raises an eyebrow at Gerard. “You wanna sit down?”

“Uh, I’m going to get a coffee first, but then I’ll join you,” Gerard says, pointing to the counter.

Frank nods, and goes back to his seat, but now he can’t stop looking at Gerard. He’s just so blindingly attractive that Frank would be hard-pressed not to.

Gerard walks over and awkwardly sits down next to Frank a few minutes later, hair drooping down to cover his eye.

“Hi, so uh, hi,” Gerard says, and Frank can’t help but smile, because he’s so awkward. It’s adorable.

“I never know how to start conversation on these,” Frank states, though that may not be exactly true. He’s usually good with conversation, but he doesn’t want to make Gerard uncomfortable for some reason.

Gerard looks at his hand and starts talking to his fingers rather than Frank, “I mean, I don’t do the whole blind dating thing. I think it’s stupid and cliché, but my brother is getting married, and he wants me to have a guest for the wedding. I think he just pities me, because I’ve had a really rocky relationship with my ex. I guess I haven’t had a real boyfriend in years, because I’ve been too caught up in that drama.”

“Me neither,” Frank says, “For other reasons, but it’s still true. I’m not the blind dating type either. Or really the _dating_ type. My friend and I made a bet though. I have these really nosy neighbors, who are always knocking on my door, and trying to convert me to their religion or something, it’s driving me insane. So anyway he bet that he could find me the perfect guy who’d chase away my neighbors.”

“Well you’ve come to the wrong place. I ain’t chasing off any neighbors,” Gerard says, and Frank nods completely understanding. 

“This is why I took the bet. I’m going to win, and then he buys me a sweet security system to scare them away, hopefully.”

“Is that the same friend who was talking you up last night? Big forehead? Massive mouth?”

“Yep, that would be Brendon. So how does Brendon know you?”

“Um, a friend of a friend of a friend of my brother. I talked a lot with him last night. He seemed... energetic?”

“Fuck, he’s an annoying bastard. As a joke, I told him to find someone with bright red hair, and he’s probably laughing so hard right now, because look at you,” Frank says, gesturing to Gerard’s hair, and he grins.

He’s got a cute smile. His teeth are kind of small, but Frank doesn’t really care. All Frank can think about is how he bets Gerard looks fantastic while blowing a guy.

“Is the hair everything you ever imagined?” Gerard asks.

“I didn’t think Brendon would take me seriously, I mean obviously. I was just trying to give him impossible traits, but there you go, and you look pretty great with vibrant red hair. I wouldn’t have thought it’d look good, but here you are, so there’s your proof,” Frank says, once again bluntly calling Gerard good looking. It makes him blush again.

About half an hour passes and Frank manages to get Gerard to ease up a bit, though he still seems a little uneasy being near Frank. Maybe Frank just has an unsettling aura, but he doubts it. It’s never been a problem for him before, so it’s probably just that he and Gerard don’t really click. It’s all as well he doesn’t click any more than the rest of the guys he’s seen.

Brendon had been so confident about Gerard, but it just doesn’t seem like it’s going to work. Part of Frank wishes Gerard would be a little freer then he is. He likes the guy well enough, but the problem is that it doesn’t seem to be mutual. That’s fine for Frank, it doesn’t happen often to him, but if Gerard isn’t interested then he doesn’t want to waste his time.

“Excuse me for calling it out, but Gerard, you don’t seem to be really into this. It’s like you’re half gone.”

“What?” Gerard asks, looking up in surprise, “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to. It’s just... have you ever been on a hook with an ex?” 

“Nope,” Frank says, “I don’t let anyone play with my emotions besides me.”

“So then you don’t understand. I guess I’m just distracted,” Gerard says.

“Ugh, sounds complicated. From what I’ve heard you’re on-again off again?” Frank asks, and Gerard nods, “Well how long has that been going on?”

“About two years.”

“Yeesh. Sounds like you need some major detox.”

“How so?” Gerard asks.

“Well do you want to get over him? I’m no therapist but it sounds unhealthy to keep someone in a position like that. Where they just keep going back,” Frank says.

“Well how do you know I shouldn’t get back together with him?” 

“Well, let’s face it. I’m not a marriage guy, never have been, probably never will be, but do you see yourself having a future with the dude?” Frank asks, “Like do you want to be with him for a long time?”

“I guess not,” Gerard says.

“I figured if you really were addicted to him or whatever, than you wouldn’t have agreed to go out on a date with a stranger.”

“So what are you saying? Subconsciously I don’t want to get back with him?” Gerard asks.

“I just said I’m no therapist, but I’m smartish. Not overly, but I’m not an idiot. I’d say that you do probably like him, but that you would be better off without him,” Frank replies honestly.

“And where do I belong then?” Gerard asks, apparently thinking that Frank is hitting on him, which isn’t exactly wrong.

“Well, I guess I could try giving you an answer,” Frank says, grinning, because this is one thing he _is_ good at, and knows a lot about.

“What?” Gerard asks.

“What do you mean what?”

“I meant _what_.”

“That’s not very helpful,” Frank says.

Gerard makes a face, “Were you coming onto me?”

“I wasn’t _not_ coming onto you.”

“So you were?” Gerard asks. He doesn’t seem to understand basic human conversation, because Frank literally just said that. It’s not that hard a concept to grasp. Gerard is attractive and Frank is not blind to that.

“If you want to get technical,” Frank replies.

“I am not going to sleep with you,” Gerard states strongly.

“That’s a shame,” Frank sighs, “You are really pretty.”

“But we just met,” Gerard states.

“That’s usually how I roll. I don’t really like getting emotions involved. I am more in touch with my animalistic side then I am with my sentimental.”

“That’s alright for you, but I’m not like that,” Gerard says.

“I won’t argue, I value consent, but it is still a bummer.”

“Why is that?” Gerard asks.

“Because... I don’t know, it just is, you’re really hot.”

“So what?” he asks, not getting it,

“Well usually I have sex with hot people,” Frank responds.

Gerard raises his eyebrows, disapprovingly, “so you’re upset that I’m ‘hot’ and won’t sleep with you?”

Frank feels a little attacked, so he says his piece as truthfully as he can, “Well, hot guys just usually say yes. I’m just not used to people saying no.”

“And you’re so pretentious that you don’t care about someone’s personality? All you care is if a person looks good? Is that you’re only criteria for a fuck?”

“I guess. I mean, call me pretentious or snobby, but I just don’t do relationships. It’s not my thing, so I don’t really care about people’s personalities if I’m going to sleep with them. You don’t really strike up a lot of conversation when you’re doing a guy,” Frank says, “I know that I never really want it to go any further than just that, so I don’t really care how nice or compatible a guy is.”

“I don’t mean to insult you, it’s your life, but how do you live like that?” Gerard asks.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“That’s pretty ridiculous to me. I’ve only ever slept with three guys. Ever.”

“Ever?” Frank asks, gobsmacked that anyone could have had so few experiences sexually. Frank doesn’t see himself as a slut, because it’s his own body image that counts, but three just seems like an absurd number.

“Yes, ever. I only sleep with people I like. People who I’m dating,” Gerard says, looking at Frank just as incredulously as he’s looking at him.

“But... but don’t you like sex?” Frank asks.

“’Course I do, but only when it’s with someone I’m comfortable enough to have sex with,” Gerard says, “Some people have a number of dates rule. For me, I never have sex until at least six dates.”

“How do _you_ even live like that?” Frank asks, astonished.

“I just do,” Gerard replies, shrugging.

“Okay. I’ll leave it alone, but still, that’s so few,” Frank says. “I’m not sure how this date has gone.”

“Are you bitter about me not wanting to sleep with you?” Gerard says, looking offended.

“What? No! Of course not, that’s your right to feel that way, it’s just not how I live my life. I’m just not sure how I feel about you and I. I haven’t really felt a connection,” Frank says, but that’s partially a lie. Of the guys Brendon has set him up with, Gerard does seem like the best option. He’s pretty, set in his ways, funny, giggly, and not too sweet for comfort. He’s the right balance between nice and outspoken.

“Well okay then. I didn’t think it was that bad, but-”

“Well would you want to try this again?” Frank asks, not knowing what answer he wants to hear.

“I don’t know. I guess, n-no?”

“Okay then,” Frank says.

“Okay,” Gerard replies.

“Okay,” Frank repeats, and he doesn’t look at Gerard. He doesn’t know what to say now. Usually his dates end with taking the other guy home, and now that that’s not a possibility, he doesn’t really know _what_ to do. How are dates supposed to end?

“Well now I don’t know what to say to you,” Gerard states.

“Me neither.”

“Does that really work for you?” Gerard asks.

“Almost always,” Frank admits.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is going to work.”

The rest of the ‘date’ is exceedingly uncomfortable, with loud sips of coffee and tentative eye contact. Frank’s a little disappointed in Brendon. Really? He thought _this guy_ was right for him? He’s not like the guys Frank goes for, not even slightly. He’s clean, and innocent, which is not ideal. He’s shy, as well as self-contained. Just no.

At least the bet is still looking to be in Frank’s favor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agh, maybe not the best meeting, but we all know they'll get together, I mean c'mon.


	5. Shirtless Brendon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And if you look to your left you will see Frank slowly being driven mad by his neighbors.

Frank honestly doesn’t know how to break the news to Brendon that Gerard was so wrong for him. On one hand, Brendon can’t honestly have thought that they would make any sense together, but on another hand, he’s a still a little frazzled by the whole ordeal. 

Gerard had obviously been judging him. Frank’s used to it, but to hear it from someone so calmly and unadulterated is just obscene to him. It’s not like Gerard’s life was any different in Frank’s eyes, but he didn’t exactly chisel it out in stone to Gerard. Maybe it’s just because Frank’s not used to being turned down like that. It’s true, that he really isn’t, so it’s awfully strange to be cast aside so quickly and firmly. Fine with him, he didn’t like Gerard that much anyway.

Except for the fact that he did kind of like the guy.

He shared absolutely no traits with the guys Frank usually likes, but that didn’t seem to be a big problem. Except for the awkward bits of conversation near the beginning and the end, it had seemed like they were really getting along. He was kind of a strange guy, because nothing he said was what Frank expected to hear him say. He always had a different approach to conversation that hadn’t been anticipated. It was refreshing. Having a conversation that was so utterly different than the ones that he’d usually had, was nice.

He was so obviously distracted half the time though. It had been hard to get him out of that shell, like he’d built himself a cocoon to stay away from other people, but Frank’s pretty sure he chipped away at that barrier a little bit. It wasn’t a large amount, but enough for him to be able to tell what Gerard might have been like if he was actually focused on Frank rather than some ex. He’d probably be a really great guy if he weren’t so caught up in that drama. 

That’s one of the most upsetting reasons to Frank about the date. Had he talked to Gerard two years ago, he probably would have met a completely different person then he had met today. Probably someone more open and lively. He’d have had the same principles obviously, but still, he’d have been so much more jovial.

It’s still Saturday so Brendon arrives at Frank’s house looking hopeful, but there’s obviously that heir of confusion. Brendon realizes that the date can only have ended a little while ago, and yet when he gets to Frank’s house, it’s empty apart from the short man. While a lot of him is shocked by that, most of him is kind of proud of the fact that Frank finally met his match. Frank usually never comes to a place where he can’t get into a guy’s pants, that’s his greatest talent. Gerard isn’t there though, so obviously Frank hit rock. He couldn’t do it, which is perfectly fine in Brendon’s eyes, because that must mean that the guy he chose had more self-esteem then he’d originally thought, but the question is how will Frank take it?

When Brendon had met the guy he’d definitely seemed like he might be weak, or easy prey, because of the fact that he really was so hung up on another guy. Brendon was a little nervous that setting him up with Frank could make that worse. Could make him do something rash, that he’d regret, but apparently Gerard was a lot more contained than he’d looked.

“Brendon, there was just nothing. Like I know you were excited about him, but honestly there was nothing,” Frank says, but that’s a lie.

“Are you sure?” Brendon asks, raising an eyebrow. “He’d seemed so... I guess different to your usual, and I thought it was in a good way.”

“No that was what I didn’t like,” Another lie, “he was way different then everyone I usually talk to. I didn’t understand him, I guess. He was kind of, like, I don’t even know. He was so...”

“Well _that_ makes a lot of sense. I just thought he was different. Threw someone different in the mix. I thought there would be more of a reaction, which sucks, but if you didn’t like him, I guess I can’t do anything about that.”

“Well, see, the thing was that he didn’t really like _me_ ,” Frank says, “I mean, maybe if he wasn’t so fucking in love with that ex than maybe I’d have been able to get a little more out of him, but he was still stuck on the dude, so I don’t think I even really met him. I don’t particularly care though, he wasn’t for me. End of story.”

“Gotcha, sheesh. I’ll go back to the drawing board. Are you sure you’re not just being too picky?”

“No, I’m positive I’m being really picky, but that doesn’t mean that Gerard was for me. Maybe he was right for you, but no, there was nothing. Not a thing,” Frank says. Lie.

“Okay, well I’ll keep looking, I’ll get another guy, and you’ll be able to forget about Gerard, jeez though why do you look so uncomfortable?”

“It was so awkward! I hardly ever get embarrassed, but the whole thing was stunted and weird,” Frank says. Lie. “There wasn’t a point in the whole date where I actually felt he was being honest or nice. It’s got me all shaken up.”

“I see that. We can go out for drinks tonight then and take your mind-”

The doorbell rings.

“Motherfucking Christ,” Frank says, gritting his teeth, and staring at the door to the entryway. He can’t see the front door, but he knows who’s there already. The living room doesn’t have windows on that side of the wall, and there’s a big section of wall restricting view from the hall that leads to the door.

“Are you going to get that?” Brendon asks.

“No it’ll ring again,” Frank says, and as if on cue, the doorbell rings again.

“How long do we have to wait until they’ll go away?” Brendon asks.

“They’re not going to go away!” Frank yells, looking at Brendon with irritation, “they were probably watching out their window and saw you come in! They know someone’s home, so they’ll stay there until they grow cobwebs.”

“Well why don’t you go answer it?”

“I can’t make it that easy. I have to get them to wait a while. They have to know-” the doorbell rings and Frank makes an inhuman noise, “that they are unwelcome before I open the door.”

There’s knocking on the door then, and Frank knows what that means.

“Brendon get on the floor!” Frank says, and Brendon looks at him like he’s officially lost his marbles.

“On the floor, behind the couch,” he yells again, and grabs Brendon shirt, to pull him around the piece of furniture. He drags him to the floor and Brendon is pretty sure that his friend has lost his mind.

“Would you mind explaining what we’re doing?” Brendon asks.

“Once they start knocking it means that she’s going to bang against the door to distract me, while he walks around the side of my house and looks into the window. He’s looking in here right now. No don’t _look_ ,” Frank almost yanks Brendon’s shoulder out of its socket when he tries to peer around the couch, “he’ll see you. He has the eyes of a hawk.”

“You are like a prisoner in your own home,” Brendon says shaking his head, “this cannot go on, they’re driving you mad.”

“I know! I have a serious problem!” Frank says, eyes wild.

“When do you answer the door?”

“I’ll give it five minutes,” he says, and Brendon rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I’ll go answer it,” Brendon says, trying to stand up, but Frank pulls him down again.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“Answering your door,” he says like it’s obvious. “it’s annoying me too.”

“Why? They’ll only give you the same deal,” Frank says.

“I’ll tell them that you want them to go away, but are incapacitated to answer the door right now,” Brendon says.

Frank dwells on it for a moment, “What are you going to tell them?”

“I don’t know? Taking a shower?”

“No, not good enough. Showers only last like ten minutes! Twenty minutes tops,” Frank says, “gotta come up with something better.”

“What then?” Brendon asks, looking so _done_ with the situation already.

Frank bites his lip and thinks again for a moment, “take off your shirt.”

What?” Brendon asks, aghast. 

“Shirt. Off. Take your shirt off! Tell them I’m currently entertaining company or something really sketchy like that,” Frank says.

“Why?” Brendon asks, seriously worrying about Frank’s sanity.

“They’re afraid of thinking about me having sex with other dudes. If a shirtless guy answers the door, they’ll realize that you and I are probably doing something. Let them think what they think, it’s their fault if they jump to that conclusion.”

“You’re crazy!”

“Maybe, but do it,” Frank says, trying to tug the shirt off Brendon himself, but he bats him away. “Please, Brendon! I will buy you a pony.”

“I don’t want a pony,” Brendon says.

“I won’t buy you a pony then. I will owe you a favor though. Please? Please!” Frank says, and the doorbell and knocking is still persisting, more relentless than it was a minute ago.

“You’re just lucky I look good without a shirt,” Brendon says, with annoyance, and also quite a bit of disbelief that he’s actually doing this.

“Thank god, I fucking love you Brendon,” Frank says.

“You’d better,” Brendon replies, pulling his shirt off stubbornly.

“Wait!” Frank says before Brendon goes anywhere.

“What now?” Brendon asks.

“Hair,” Frank says, like it’s obvious. He takes a hand and messes Brendon’s hair up quickly.

“What’s this for?”

“Sex hair,” Frank says, like it’s obvious.

“You definitely owe me one for this,” Brendon says, crawling over to the doorway where he stands up. He then gives Frank a final look that is so far past annoyed that Frank almost feels guilty about using Brendon like that.

He hears Brendon unlocking the door, and then the faint sound of it swinging open.

“May I help you?” he asks.

A short conversation consisting of Brendon combating everything they try to say with, ‘I’d really like to get back to what I was doing,’ and Frank isn’t the least bit surprised by the responses he gets from the Sinclair’s. It takes at least five minutes to get them to leave, but Brendon has some talent in ending the conversation.

He walks back into the room a minute later, and grabs his shirt.

“The insinuation that I would ever sleep with you is absolutely repulsive,” Brendon says, pulling his shirt back over his head.

“Thank you for that though!” Frank says, standing up.

“Yeah, you’re buying tonight though.”

“I thought the point was to get my mind off of the botched date with the guy you set me up with,” Frank exasperates.

“That was before you made me answer the door and pretend I was in the middle of fucking you. Gross, Frank.” 

“At least it worked!” he replies, but he has to admit that Brendon is a damn good friend to do that for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think part of me just wanted to picture Brendon shirtless.


	6. Do As I Say, Not As I Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank a lil bitchy. Gerard is a lil bitchy too.

Normally Frank would be here in this bar anyway on a Saturday night, but it just feels so weird. He literally had a lineup already planned in his head, and this was not a part of it. Here he is though, alone on a Saturday night with Brendon who’s purposefully buying all the drink upcharges he can. He’s pretty sure Brendon can’t actually hold that much alcohol, but his perspective is skewed. Frank is short, and thus, there is very little place for the alcohol to go. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get drunk, but it does mean that Frank is a lightweight if there ever was one.

He’s fine with it though. Frank is just about finished with scouting out his eventual company for tonight when he sees someone else.

“Holy shit!” Frank says, putting a hand over his face.

“What?” Brendon says, looking at Frank who he still isn’t sure isn’t insane.

“It’s, ugh... Brendon!” Frank says with a hiss like he’s upset at how _Brendon_ is acting rather than himself.

“Dude, you’ve totally lost me,” Brendon says.

“It’s... god, you’re fucking useless. Six o’clock!” Frank says.

“No, it’s like nine,” Brendon says, worrying even more about Frank’s mental stability.

“Fuck! You are such an idiot. I mean, six o’clock as in look who is standing over there, behind us, at four five _six_ o’clock.”

Brendon nods and then looks behind Frank to see who the hell he’s talking about. It takes less than a few seconds for him to realize who Frank is referring to. It’s the bright red hair that gives it away.

“Oh. _Ohhhh_ ,” Brendon states and makes a small cringing face, “my bad.”

“You fucking think?” Frank asks, “You just had to choose to set me up on the worst date that has ever been experienced by anyone with a guy who goes to our bar?”

“I didn’t realize that I had to choose someone from North Dakota or fucking Timbuktu to set you up with,” Brendon states, “what do you want from me? I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, well sorry doesn’t change the fact that he’s right there, and could look over at any time!”

“So what if he does! You’re not twelve years old, you can put up with the guy. It’s not like he tried to murder you.”

“Yes he did, he tried to murder me with his awkwardness!”

“Frank, darling, you’re being a drama queen.”

Frank groans, “Fuck you, I am not.”

“You’re hiding from a guy you barely know because of _one_ failed date!”

“Fine, what do you propose we do? Do you wanna just invite him over for drinks and tell him that I’m not as big a douchebag as he thinks I am?”

“Well no, because then I’d be lying to the guy. I am not going to underplay your douchebagginess, but he’s a big boy, he’ll get over it,” Brendon says.

“Stop patronizing me,” Frank replies, “I don’t want to see him. You have no idea how low an opinion he had of me.”

“Well no offense, but I’m a little surprised you haven’t experienced that before, bro. Like seriously, I cannot believe that more people haven’t turned you down. It’s a little ridiculous what you ask for. If you told _me_ that all you wanted was a one-night stand, I’d probably throw my drink in your face,” Brendon admits.

“Well usually when I ask guys, they’re not very smart. I didn’t prepare for asking someone who’s got the outlook that sex is between two people who love each other. It is the twenty first century, and that is a medieval mentality.”

“You’re so conditioned to believe that he’s the weird one for saying no. Actually Frank, you’re the anomaly there. Most people will decline, but they’re here at a bar, looking to meet a nice guy, but then you come along and you’ve got this no strings attached motto that makes people go ‘why not.’ It’s not like it’s a common thing to meet someone like you.”

“Are you accusing me of brainwashing people into sleeping with me?” Frank asks, both flattered and offended. 

“I’m accusing you of offering up an escape from reality, which an ordinarily banal person might find tempting. I think there’s a form of trickery in there, but I also believe that it is mutually consensual on both ends,” Brendon says.

“You disapprove,” Frank states.

“You know I’m not for it. I think it’s likely that you might hurt someone mentally. I think it’s possible that you’ve bedded a guy who thought he was alright with the one-night stand scene, but later realized he was uncomfortable with the path he took which was aided by you.”

“I am who I am, Brendon. You can’t change me,” Frank defends.

“I wasn’t going to try. I just think that you do need to look at what you’ve done in the past, because it’s not all as carefree and sunshine as you think it is. I won’t change you, because you’re a fucking mule, but consider your actions.”

“What does this have to do with Gerard then?”

“I guess you should just try to apologize to him about your presumptuousness.”

“What? Why should I apologize? _He_ was Mr. judgmental, I think he has every reason to apologize to me,” Frank says.

“Do you wanna go over there and tell him that?” Brendon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Not particularly no. I think I’ll just ignore him and pretend it never happened,” Frank says.

“I don’t think that’s going to be an option,” Brendon replies, and Frank gives him a strange look.

“Frank?” A voice asks, and Frank is absolutely positive that Satan has it out for him. He turns around slowly in his chair and sees that, yes, Gerard is standing right behind him. 

“Hello,” Frank says in a squeaky voice. He then feels Brendon kick him in the shin under the table, and takes a deep breath to calm his nerves.

“Hi, um,” he says, and it becomes obvious that Gerard did not come over here preemptively. He just impulsively came over here and now neither of them knows what to say.

“Why don’t you join us?” Brendon says and it’s Frank’s turn to kick _him_.

“He doesn’t have to,” Frank says, then looks to Gerard and says, “You don’t have to.”

“You should! It’ll be fun. Frank is buying!” Brendon says.

“I am not, what? I’m buying for _you_ , Brendon,” Frank says, looking at his friend warningly. “I can’t really afford any more than that.”

“You owe me like six favors,” Brendon says, “c’mon.”

“No it’s fine, I’m-”

“See he doesn’t want to join us,” Frank interrupts.

“He’s just uncomfortable because you and I are bickering. Gerard, it’ll be fun, Frank is just being stubborn.”

Gerard shakes his head, “no I’m fine, really. I have a date.”

“See! He has a-” Frank stops midsentence than turns to look at Gerard, “ _you have a date?_ ”

Frank feels a rush of inexplicable jealousy. He’s actually insulted. The guy has a date! A date on the same goddamn day that he’d gone out with Frank. That’s just low. It’s downright wretched.

“I... sorta,” he says, and that’s when the tension gets _really_ uncomfortable.

“Well good for you then,” Frank says, but his voice is laced with venom. “There’s no hypocrisy in that at all.”

Brendon’s posture just slacks as his whole brain is sounding the alert that shots have been fired. He doesn’t know how to stop Frank now that he’s made his mind up about Gerard.

“Excuse me?” Gerard asks with the vague hope in his voice still thinking that maybe he didn’t hear what he thinks he heard.

“No nothing. It’s just that, you know, I’m filth for sleeping around and what not, but it’s perfectly okay for you to have two dates in one day. Sounds like you’re a tease, but who am I to judge?” Frank says, not looking at Gerard.

“I don’t think that’s necessarily the same thing,” Gerard answers.

“Well no, _you_ wouldn’t think that. It’s alright for you to go on a bunch of dates and all that, but it’s wrong for me if I do the same thing. It’s just that I’m the one at fault because I score when you can’t.”

“Can’t?” he says, feeling victimized.

“Well yeah. You’re a hypocrite, in a different sense. Just because the date doesn’t ultimately lead to sex does not mean that you are any better than me. You’re all one for condemning me for having a bunch of sex, and then you go out on a date the very same day as one with me, and you think I’m not going to have something to say about that?”

Gerard scoffs, “Well I think you’re blowing things a little out of proportion.”

“Hm, really? You know what I think is that you’re just feeling guilty because you know I’m right so you’re trying to deflect whatever I say.”

“I don’t think,” he starts and stumbles, making Frank raise an eyebrow arrogantly as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

“Frank’s just a little on edge because his neighbors were bothering him today,” Brendon says, trying to cool down the situation.

“No, he’s being an asshole,” Gerard says, and Frank grins at the remark, feeling happy with himself for some reason.

“I’m an asshole for being right?” Frank asks. “Don’t mind us, get back to your date.”

“Is the offer still up to join you then?” Gerard asks, and Frank is a little surprised, because he has no idea what game Gerard’s playing. 

Brendon starts, “Sure, but I don’t think Frank’s gonna-”

“That’s fine,” Gerard says, “I don’t want his charity.”

“Then yeah,” Brendon says, and he vocalizes his ‘ow’ this time when Frank kicks him.

“Be right back,” Gerard says, turning on his heels.

“You are so dead, Brendon,” Frank says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s possible that their won’t be any updates tomorrow, though I’d say it’s unlikely, because someone bought herself some last minute tickets to Panic! At the Disco.


	7. Forgive and Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm mondo-tired (literally, no joke, got four hours of sleep) and this is the most descriptive I can possibly get in my weary state, but at least there's an update at all!

“Why is he sitting with us?” Frank whines when Gerard makes his way back to them looking smug.

“I don’t know, I’ll ask him,” Brendon says, but he doesn’t get the chance before Frank kicks him once again.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Frank says.

“Lovers quarrel?” Gerard asks with a sinfully fake voice of interest.

“That would imply that Frank and I are lovers. Think your idioms through before you voice them or someone will end up hydro pumping all over your old white converse.”

“Where’s your date?” Frank asks.

Gerard looks uncomfortable and frowns, “he left.”

“Because you’re a judgmental prick?”

“I will pull out your fucking hairs one by one if you start on that, Frank,” Brendon says calmly.

“What did I do?”

“You’re being a dick,” Brendon says. “Calm the hell down, and treat Gerard like a human being.”

Gerard makes an arrogant face and directs it at Frank, making Frank squint his eyes at him unhappily.

“Don’t you give that face, Gerard. I may barely know you, but I am not afraid of scolding you out either. You treat Frank like a human being too. Fucking apologize to him for judging his lifestyle!”

“But you just said-”

“Never forget where my allegiance lies, Gerard,” Brendon says firmly, “I’m mad at him too, but you’ve got to bear in mind that I’m more likely to take his side.”

Frank shrugs, not necessarily in a self-satisfied sort of way, but because Brendon is telling the truth.

“I’m sorry. It was out of line of me. I didn’t realize that what I said had that much of an effect on him,” Gerard says, looking to be actually fairly truthful.

“That was adequate. Now honestly, I’m sorry that it didn’t go over well with you two, really I am, but that is not an excuse to hate each other. You’re both good people, and I think it’s unjust to try to compare yourselves to each other.”

Frank opens his mouth, “but he was being conde-”

“Yeah, I get it. Gerard was condescending, you were disrespectful, I know how it works. That’s not a good reason to dislike each other. Everyone has a character flaw, I spend way too much time on my hair and I’m hopelessly impatient. Frank is egotistical, and Gerard is judgmental,” he says, “are we good then? Everything is out on the table now!”

“I guess its fine,” Gerard shrugs, “I mean it wasn’t actually that bad. The date I mean.”

Frank blushes, because he’d honestly thought that Gerard had hated it. He’d thought it was just him.

“No it was just that bit at the end there,” Frank says, “I came on a little too strong, and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry for that, and for just now.”

“I’m such a good influence on you,” Brendon says smiling to himself.

“Shut up, Frank punches him.

It happens again to Frank. He starts talking to Gerard and he forgets to hold a grudge. It’s not like he really wanted to apologize, but he’s not afraid to admit that he probably should, and he did. Well he did as much as he’s willing to anyway.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you have a second date?” Frank asks after almost an hour of conversation.

“Well I’m trying to get over my ex, but that thing at the coffee shop was honestly just so awkward, I guess I crawled right back,” Gerard answers.

“Wait that was _him_?” Frank asks, now wishing he’d actually seen the guy instead of hearing about his existence.

“Yeah, that was him. He left when I said I’d seen a friend, but he doesn’t like any of my friend so...”

“That’s pretty fucked up. If I met someone who couldn’t put up with the people in my life, I would get rid of them without a second thought. Brendon may be a bit of an idiot, but I wouldn’t dump him for anyone.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I know I shouldn’t go back to him. I don’t want to, but I just do, and I can’t help it. It’s like I’m tied to a bungee cord, and however far away from him I get, I just get pulled right back.”

Frank excuses himself to go to the bathroom and that’s when the serious talk comes out between Brendon and Gerard.

“He’s very set in his ways, Gerard,” Brendon explains. “Like, he won’t change unless he finds a really good reason to, but I doubt he’s really going to. Or _try_ to. A part of the reason why I’m trying to hook him up with someone, other than the bet, is because, honestly I feel like he could be a really great loving person. I think he’s got that in him, and I think it’s going to rear its head once he finds the right person, but before any of that he does have to find him. He’s got to find someone and I don’t know who it’s going to be, but I hope to find him.”

“What makes you think he can change?”

“Well,” Brendon frowns, “you’ve got to understand that Frank is a very stubborn human being. He is very much sure of what he wants in life, and he’s blinded to anything that isn’t on that exact route he has in mind. He’s decided that the bachelor life is what suits him, and he won’t accept that, you know, maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to change him, he is my friend, but I want him to know that maybe it’s not good for him the way he uses guys. I think he’s so used to it that he doesn’t realize the effects of it.”

“What do you mean?” Gerard questions.

“He just doesn’t realize that when you have a one-night stand, there are _two_ parties involved. He thinks of it as just himself, and while that’s fine on a small level, the scale he’s brought himself to is just pushing on outrageous. The fact of the matter is that Frank is a good person. He’s cynical, sure, and he’s a little arrogant at times, but he’s a good person.”

“Deep down?”

“No, not really. It’s not deep down, it’s right on the surface if you, just scratch off the top layer. It’s this façade he encompasses that comes across as self-obsessed but I don’t think that’s all of who he is. He’s caring, and he’s warm, he’s just a little lost,” Brendon says.

“How did he get that way?”

“You know, I ask myself that a lot, but I don’t know. When I met him he was a milder version of who he is now, but he was still that same guy. I think the fact that his parents are divorced has something to do with it. He never really saw love between them so he just assumes it’s not a real thing. Frank doesn’t believe in love, because he’s never experienced it. He doesn’t know what it’s like being in love, so he assumes it’s a ploy.”

“He thinks the whole world is faking it for his sake?” Gerard asks.

“No, he thinks people who claim they’re in love are just in denial. He thinks it’s an overhyped phenomenon of the gullible.”

“That’s a sad way to live your life. I’ve experienced love firsthand and it’s no joke. It’s a fucking mess, but it’s real.”

Brendon nods, “yes, well I know that, and you know that, but Frank doesn’t. That’s why I need to find him someone. He’s my best friend and I just don’t want to see him end up wasting away his youth, and losing his chance at finding someone. I think he’s got a lot to offer, but he’s bottling it up. It may be an unconscious thing he does, or maybe it’s intentional, but I do think he’s afraid of getting close to people.”

“But friendship, that’s the same thing, right? It’s like the same thing only it’s a different kind of love. I’m sure you love Frank, and he loves you back, purely platonically, but that’s proof enough for anyone with logic.”

“Not in Frank’s eyes,” Brendon shakes his head, “Listen, don’t repeat what I’ve just said to anyone. I guess I spewed off a little more than I meant to. It’s just that I worry about him, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Gerard says.

Frank returns after that and Gerard tries to stop looking at him, but honestly, it’s hard to deny that Frank is hot. He’s short and he’s too energetic, and he’s a little tipsy, but he’s extremely easy to talk to, and also easy on the eyes.

Gerard had thought for sure that after that cup of coffee they would never see each other again, but here they are having a normal conversation as if that date had never happened. 

Gerard thinks, though he wouldn’t admit it, that it’s actually quite nice. Frank’s thoughts are identical in that respect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Panic! At the Disco was great, thank you for asking. At one point I stood literally no more than twenty feet away from Brendon Urie and Dallon Weekes. I only saw their backs because they were looking the other way, but they were beautiful backs (that sounded dirtier than I'd originally intended).  
> [](http://s1291.photobucket.com/user/Sexy_Bread_Tin/media/yep_zps8f8fe120.png.html)  
> I'm particularly proud of this picture. Ermagherd Brendon ur so sexy!


	8. The Sinclair's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the neighbors.

“You little fucker, you are not going to set me up on my birthday, okay? You are going to let me have a night off,” Frank whines, switching the phone from one ear to the other.

“Fine, if that’s all you care about, then fine. Call it my birthday present to you,” Brendon says.

“You had better get me a real fucking present you asshole,” Frank says, “I may be all grown up and shit, but you, of all people, are going to get me something.”

“You’re so needy,” Brendon says.

“I am not needy, I just like taking advantage of our friendship.”

“I need new friends,” Brendon groans with a long sigh.

“Yep, but you’re stuck with me,” Frank gives him a toothy smile that he can’t see, but Brendon rolls his eyes anyway, anticipating it. “Hey, I was thinking. You know Gerard?”

“I am familiar with him, yes.”

“Maybe, do you think maybe you could maybe invite him too... maybe? Like only if he wants to come, but he should if he wants to,” Frank says gracelessly.

Brendon would give Frank such a judgmental glare right now, but he also feels himself smiling at how stupid Frank is sometimes. Does he even realize that he just broke the world record for number of ‘maybe’s’ used in one sentence?

“Oh so that’s why you don’t want me to get you a date.”

“No!” Frank answers too quickly, “I mean _no_. I just... he’s fun to talk to I guess. Don’t read too much into it.”

“Mhm, right,” Brendon, says skeptically.

“Really!”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You just find Gerard uninhibitedly attractive, and also you think he’s adorable. I know you, Frank, and I can tell that you are smitten.”

“Who the fuck says smitten? Did we take a time machine to the nineteen fifties?” Frank asks.

“Fuck off, you know what I mean,” Brendon says.

“Sure. Just, yeah, ask him. Casually, you know. Don’t make it too obvious, but also-” 

“Yeah no, you’re not at all _infatuated_ with him. There is that better? Oh and it’s totally true, Frank you like him.”

“I do not like him, what are you a third grader?” Frank asks, defensively.

“Yes you are! Whenever you start insulting me more than usual it means that you are lying to me. You just called me a third grader from the nineteen fifties, therefore you totally have a thing for Gerard, and I am amazing.”

“You’re making shit up.”

Brendon scoffs, “I am not! You like him. Oh god, and I fucking knew it too. I knew he was for you, and I had my suspicion the other day at the bar, but I couldn’t confirm anything until you just fucking said it. You so like him!”

“That is insane. I like no one, especially not Gerard.”

“Oh yeah, right. So the first time in literally months where you don’t pick up a guy on a Saturday night, just coincidentally falls on the same day as when you were at the bar with Gerard.”

“That was your fault! You distracted me! By the time I could’ve found a guy it was already too late.”

Brendon makes another incredulous noise, “You lie! There was a blonde dude at the bar, who was eyeing you for like an hour. I know you saw him! He knows you saw him. The only person who doesn’t know that you two were practically eye-fucking each other was Gerard.”

“Oh please, he was not my type,” Frank says.

“Your type is ‘male, alive, and willing to fuck.’ That guy was both male and alive, and unless he just had a lazy eye, _very_ willing to fuck,” Brendon replies.

“Think what you like, I don’t like Gerard,” Frank says, and the doorbell rings, “fuck, Brendon, my neighbors are making their rounds earlier today. I’ll call you later, okay? Just invite Gerard, alright?”

“Yep, sure, I’ll invite your future boyfriend,” Brendon says in a singsong voice.

Frank’s almost relieved to have his neighbors as an excuse to hang up the phone, because when he does he can take a deep breath and try to reassure himself that he doesn’t actually like Gerard. He tells himself that, but he’s not certain that his brain receives the message.

Frank takes a deep breath and walks over to the front door.

His hand does not want to pull it open, but his ears are being violated by the sound of the incessant doorbell.

“What can I do for you today?” Frank says, all in one long breath.

The woman, Mrs. Sinclair, is a short red-headed woman, smaller than Frank so her size is notable, with the most plastic expression that has ever graced this earth. Now she’s probably the kind of woman who would scold a person for getting cosmetic surgery, as ‘you should be happy with what god gave you,’ but honestly her face looks like a carnival mask that she got on sale at the goodwill where she bought her floral pink grandma blouse.

Mrs. Sinclair’s husband is not that much more unique. He’s got the most easily forgettable face a human could ever possibly comprehend. Now obviously, you can’t imagine his face, because it is honestly just that boring. He’s tall compared to his wife, but he can’t be any more than about 5’10, so he’s not intimidating. He doesn’t own any clothes other than the same douchey khaki cargo pants, with pockets where pockets should not be. The plain white shirt he wears is far too V-neck for his age, and it needs to be washed with some sort of industrial strength bleach. Or just acid so that the shirt stops existing altogether. The bad part about that would be that he would no longer have any shirts in his possession at all, and Frank would be rightly assassinated for forcing the world to have to see Mr. man-boobs shirtless.

Suffice to say, when Frank opens his front door, and every other time he sees them, his nose wrinkles and his face looks positively sour.

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Sinclair says.

“Afternoon? It’s fucking eleven,” Frank says.

“We got an early rise, it’s _our_ afternoon,” Mr. Sinclair says.

“I don’t know if I have to spell it out for you guys, but afternoon means _after_ noon. As in afternoon has to come after the time that is referred to as noon. After twelve. It’s not after twelve, it’s before twelve, so it is morning.”

“It’s a figure of speech, it’s relative to the time at which a person awakens,” Mrs. Sinclair says. They talk in turns, and Frank’s never understood that, but they never ever say more than one sentence at a time. It’s actually kind of creepy. Frank still hasn’t ruled out the idea that they’re robots.

“It’s not fucking relative to anything. Afternoon is after fucking noon,” Frank says, already trying to keep himself from socking the girl in her nose.

“Well afternoon also refers to the latter of the day.”

“It does not refer to the latter of the fucking day! Afternoon is the most self-explanatory word I have ever come across. It ain’t no fucking dawn or dusk, where the definition isn’t in the word, because afternoon _is_ the definition for the word, as well as _the word_.”

“Watch your language,” Mrs. Sinclair says.

“Watch _your_ language,” Frank says back, to demonstrate how little her words mean to him.

Mr. Sinclair starts, “We were just wondering if you were interested in-”

“No I’m not,” Frank interrupts.

“It’s just that there’s a service every Sunday-”

“Sunday? See, Sunday’s don’t work for me, I’ve got my satanic rituals and virgin sacrifices on Sunday’s, so my schedule is pretty much filled,” Frank interjects once again.

“Well on Wednesday’s-”

“Also no good. I host my weekly gay orgies on Wednesday’s.”

“Now, the sass is greatly unappreciated,” Mrs. Sinclair states.

“Greatly unappreciated? I wonder what that must be like. I wonder what it’s like to have someone disagree with you, and interrupt you at all hours of the day. Oh god, wouldn’t it be worse, if you’d expressly made it known that you want someone to go the fuck away?”

“We’re just trying to help you,” Mr. Sinclair says.

“And I’ve told you countless times now, that I don’t want your fucking help,” Frank replies, looking him in the eye. “Now is that all, because I really should get back. I was making myself some cereal and I don’t want it to burn.”

“How does one burn cereal?’

“How about you invite me to your house, and I’ll _show_ you how you burn cereal,” Frank says, fantasizing about blowing their kitchen up.

“No thank you,” Mr. Sinclair says.

“Then you can be on your way,” Frank says, grabbing the door, and trying to push them out of the front entrance. If it were up to Frank, he would hit them in the face with the swinging door, but the guys foot is in the way so he can’t push it more than two inches.

“Don’t you think you could-”

“No I can’t, sorry. Oh, and just to let you know, I’m going to have a few friends over on Halloween, so if someone pukes on your front lawn, you know who to thank.”

“If that happens, we’ll call the cops.”

“And I will call the fucking Lucky Charms Leprechaun to put a rainbow over your fucking house so that everyone can see the fucking rainbow in your motherfucking garden!” Frank says, finally slamming the door shut. He takes a deep breath and holds himself back from punching the wall. He wants to punch one of those brauds in the face though, but he’s sure that they’d file some sort of suit against him, and he can’t really afford it. If only he could afford to move to a new house, then his worries would be over, but sadly he cannot.

“God I fucking hate them,” Frank says, trying to shake his anger off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	9. Gaga For Gerard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon's decided who Frank is going to end up with.

“He’s not coming is he?”

“You love him,” Brendon says shaking his head.

“I don’t! He’s not coming though is he?”

Brendon looks at his friend with amusement, “it has been ten minutes. Ten minutes, Frank. Give it some fucking time.”

“Oh god, but I’m nervous.”

“And you don’t like him?” Brendon asks.

Frank shrugs, “as a human being he seems niceish, but I don’t _like_ him.”

“You so like him. It’s literally written all over your face. It’s almost like someone took a sharpie and wrote on your forehead ‘gaga for Gerard.’ It’s sort of the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You need to get out more,” Frank says, trying to bite down on his already stubbed nails. He’s normally not this nervous, ever. It’s not like him, and he’s really not sure why he’s acting this way today.

“Whether you are or not in love with Gerard, or at least totally crushing on him, I think I’m going to hold off on finding you another guy,” Brendon says.

“But you have until the end of November! November starts tomorrow, isn’t that going to give you like a time crunch?”

“Well I think I’ve already found the guy,” Brendon says, “I just have to wait for you to _realize_ I’ve found the guy.”

“Wait. You think Gerard is the guy?” Frank asks, and he stops his pacing to look at Brendon.

“I think he’s the closest thing I’m ever going to find with my time limit, but yeah, I think he is the guy.”

“How do you mean? The guy who I’m going to date, or the guy who I’m going to marry or what? Because I think your head is in the clouds if you think I’m ever going to consider marrying anyone,” Frank says, though he even he considers that statement to be a little farfetched.

“Well I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, but I think you like him. I really do, so I’m going to wait it out and see how things go with you and him,” Brendon says.

“You’re a wishful thinker,” Frank says.

“I am, but I’m also pretty confident about this. Don’t tell him I said that, because I don’t want him to get scared. He likes you though, Frank.”

“No he doesn’t. Does he? No he doesn’t,” Frank says, contradicting himself, “he doesn’t. Do you think so? No don’t answer that. No, actually answer it.”

“Should I answer that?” Brendon asks.

“No. Yes. Maybe. No. Just tell me,” Frank demands.

“I think he likes you. I think he’s nervous about liking you because he’s not used to it, but I do think so. It’s not a guarantee though, so tread carefully,” Brendon says.

“Tread carefully? I wasn’t going to tread at all. I don’t like him!”

Brendon snorts, “You are such a fucking idiot. Yes, Frank. You like him.”

He groans, “You are making things up. Seeing things that aren’t there. You’re the weird one, not me. But do you think he’s going to come?”

Brendon puts his head in his hands, because Frank is honestly being such an idiot.

Frank clears his throat, “Okay, so I’m not saying I like him or anything, but suppose I did.”

“Which you do.”

Frank makes a sound, “just suppose I did. Hypothetically, is it obvious? If you were him would you be able to tell that I like him? Hypothetically?”

“Hypothetically,” Brendon says, playing along, “if I were him, I may not. As long as you maintain your bravado, but try to tone it down a little bit, so that you’re approachable.”

“Approachable? How would I go about doing that?”

“Well first of all, you look like an insect with your eyes bulging out of your head like that. Also let your shoulders relax, it looks like you’re on puppet strings,” Brendon says, evaluating his friend, who does look way too much on edge considering it’s his birthday.

“Better?” Frank asks, though he’s barely changed his posture at all.

“Not really,” Brendon says honestly, “Just avoid alcohol for now or you’ll end up saying something stupid.”

“Anything else I should avoid?”

“Black cats, and walking under ladders,” Brendon suggests.

“Thanks,” He says contemptuously.

“Yep, no problem,” Brendon answers. “Do you need anything else, or can I go find Ryan?”

“It’s so unfair. My birthday and you want to spend it sucking face.”

“Well are _you_ offering?” Brendon asks sarcastically.

“Ew, no. Get the fuck away from me,” Frank says pushing him away.

“Suit yourself bro, just calm down, he’ll be here,” Brendon says, walking away and into the kitchen.

It’s not like Frank’s house is really big, and it’s not like it’s overly crowded right now, but it’s crowded enough. There’s people there that Frank would really prefer weren’t there at all, and people he’s pretty sure he’s never seen in his entire life, but fuck it. It’s Halloween, it’s his birthday, and he’s supposed to be the fun guy, so he’s not going to say anything. 

He’s not about to let people puke in his sink though. Frank does make the announcement very early on, about half an hour after Brendon abandoned him, that if anyone feels the need to eject their insides, then they should eject said insides on his neighbor’s lawn. He will deal with the cops if they come, and maybe see what he can do about legal action against his neighbors, if it’s even possible. Only if it comes to that though, Frank doesn’t really like to seek out conflict, but it’s not that loud. Someone should maybe turn the stereo down, or at least change it to good music, but it’s not that bad.

Apparently Frank is not the only person who doesn’t like the music because someone, with a voice like a goddamn looney tunes character screams something at someone, and it all seems rather nonsensical. He honestly has no idea what was said, but one second it’s some top twenty song that is drowning in auto tune, and the next second it’s ABBA. He decides not to question it, and goes back to the other side of the house where he can sit on the staircase and check his watch adamantly.

He puts his head in his hands and tries to block out the world. He honestly has no idea why he’s not enjoying himself right now. He just can’t help but think about Gerard, which is weird. 

He literally barely knows the guy. He has seen him maybe five times in total. Two times when they first met, and three times after that. It’s aggravating him. He shouldn’t be so hung up on the guy, because obviously he didn’t show any express interest in Frank, but part of him thinks that there was definitely _something_. He assures himself that he’s making things up, seeing things there aren’t there, because he’s caught up on what Brendon said about his one-night stands, but still it doesn’t feel like that. It’s the logical explanation, but logic just doesn’t seem to be the most effective tool when dealing with this.

Logically Frank shouldn’t like Gerard at all. Actually, logically he should probably hate Gerard, but that logic isn’t really, well... logical. He thinks that he might be going crazy.

Now obviously Brendon has a different take on it, saying that everyone has literally gone through the exact same thing that Frank is going through. Frank says that’s impossible because he’s pretty sure it’s some sort of illness, and that ‘crushes’ don’t exist. 

To Frank, sex is really as far as it ever goes. That’s why he doesn’t accept the idea of a crush, because it simply isn’t a word in his vocabulary. There’s no way for someone to like someone else, and want to be with them, based off of their personality. Or that’s what Frank tells himself at least. No matter what proof he’s given he just doesn’t believe it. Frank is positive that he can’t like Gerard, because that simply isn’t something that can happen to a person. He’s decided it’s some sort of psychosis that he’ll get over. He’s so hopelessly obstinate that crushes are impossible that however hard Brendon tries, he just won’t give in.

This is one of the reasons why Brendon’s going to just wait it out and watch Frank’s and Gerard’s relationship do its own thing. He doesn’t want to interfere, because he believes, with all his heart, that if anyone is going to be able to really touch Frank emotionally, it’s Gerard. He doesn’t know why it’s Gerard. Brendon doesn’t even want to question _why_ he’s so sure, but he is, and that’s that. Gerard is going to make Frank understand love, and all anyone can really do is wait it out with a popcorn and a Dr. Pepper.

Frank is still sitting on the staircase alone nearly an hour later, practically falling asleep when someone pokes him in the ribcage.

“The fuck,” he says, looking around to see the very guy he’s been lost in thought about for the last several minutes. 

“Gerard!” Frank says trying to find a balance between excitement and neutrality in his tone, but it just sounds like he’s trying to talk with food in his mouth.

“Yeah, hey,” Gerard says, and he goes to sit on the step beside Frank. Frank is fairly sure he has some sort of chronic medical condition, because his heart did _not_ just stutter when Gerard’s elbow brushed against his arm. That would be crazy.

“So... hi,” Frank says, smartly.

“Hey, you looked bored so I, well, I am now here to ask you why you’re bored,” Gerard says.

“What?” Frank only has a few seconds to try and come up with a lie for why he’s been sitting here for an hour rather than enjoying his own party. He decides that the truth that he’s been daydreaming about Gerard is better left unsaid. “Brendon was, like, trying to eat his boyfriends face or something. I didn’t want to be the third wheel.”

“Oh,” Gerard says with a nod. “Well happy birthday.”

“You too. No, shit!” Frank turns the color of a fucking beet, “I meant, thanks. I’m... fuck! I promise I’m not drunk.”

Gerard laughs, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m just,” Frank’s face still feels like it’s overheating and he decides that he doesn’t trust himself to talk right now. A side effect of the chronic medical condition that is getting worse because Gerard’s shoulder is rubbing against his.

“So...” Gerard says awkwardly, “how are your neighbors then? Still bugging you?”

“You remembered that?” He asks, because he’s sure they haven’t talked about his neighbors since the very first time they met, “they’re still annoying. I still hate them.”

“How bad is it?” Gerard asks.

“Well,” Frank thinks, trying to come up with the worst thing they’ve done, but there are so many contenders, “they stuffed my mailbox so chockfull of, like, brochures and stuff that the mailman got mad at me and said I was intentionally trying to make his job harder. I couldn’t even get them out, because that shit was really in there.”

“What, did they just cram a bunch of flyers in it or something?”

“Yeah,” Frank nods, “I had to buy a pry bar. I got back at them by duct taping their mailbox shut. I don’t think they even realized that they made it impossible to get that shit out.”

“Couldn’t you move or something?” Gerard asks.

“Yeah, if I had the time and money to move, I sure would. I’m thinking of just getting a PO Box and redirecting everything because they still do it. I have a collection of pamphlets and shit, actually. Did you know that homosexuality is a sin, and I’m going to end up hanging out with Sisyphus in hell unless I repent for it now? If you’re interested in learning more I can offer you four dozen different pamphlets on the subject. I just think it’s utter bullshit. It’s a waste of paper, but they are relentless,” Frank says.

“They just don’t get it?”

“Apparently not. I’ve literally thrown every obscenity I can think of at them, and told them, without any sugarcoating, that I do not want them to bother me, but they won’t _stop_.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and Frank looks at him, trying to rationalize his thoughts right now. He just inexplicably wants Gerard to hug him, and he’s trying to shake that thought away. 

“Uh so,” Frank says, because he’s petrified of making an idiot out of himself in front of Gerard, though he doesn’t know why. Another side effect of his nonexistent medical condition.

“I was kind of on the fence about coming because I didn’t really know if we were okay, because I did say a lot of shit that I shouldn’t when we first met, but I don’t know, I feel like we’ve gotten past that,” Gerard says without taking any breaths, and it winds Frank just hearing it.

“Yeah definitely. I guess you weren’t really wrong,” Frank shrugs.

“Well I was wrong,” Gerard says.

“Maybe wrong to say it the way you did, but you weren’t really _wrong_. I guess I do have a problem, but that’s me. It’s just who I am.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he answers.

“Do you believe people can change? Like really?” Frank asks.

“Not structurally. Basic rudiments of a person can never really change, but on a smaller level I don’t see why not,” Gerard replies, “why? Do you want to change?”

Frank shrugs, because honestly he doesn’t know. He thinks he’s just delusional, and chasing after some twisted fantasy, but part of him almost does. Maybe part of him _really_ does, but he’s suppressing it, because it’s so hard to even imagine it.

He doesn’t think it’s just Gerard that’s making him think that, at least he highly doubts it, because that’s always been something in the back of his mind. Frank’s always wanted to escape the narcissistic asshole that he’s made himself to be, but he’s so comfortable with it. It’s easy for him, and Gerard challenges that. It may not be because of Gerard that Frank has the desire to change, but Gerard’s introduction to his life has certainly played a key role in making him realize it.

“I think I do,” Frank says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment?


	10. Playing Both Sides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon "trick's" Gerard into spilling his thoughts.

“Can I be honest with you, dude?” Brendon asks.

“Well that depends on what it is you want to be honest about,” Gerard replies.

“Can we, maybe, go outside? It’s loud in here,” Brendon says.

“Don’t you have a date?”

“Well I have a Ryan, if you want to call him a date then sure he’s a date, but he’s just Ryan. I say ‘just’ which sounds a little offensive, but you don’t know him, he’s a fucking weirdo. He’s hanging out with Frank right now anyway, I just want to talk where I can actually hear myself think,” he answers.

Gerard shrugs, but nods, and follows Brendon to walk out of the house. He guides Gerard out the backdoor, and then onto the steps behind it, where Frank’s backyard consists of overgrown grass, and not much else.

“What’s up?” Gerard asks.

“I’m so petrified of losing Frank,” he says.

“What do you mean?” Gerard asks.

“I mean that I’m afraid of losing ahold on him. I think he’s lost some of his marbles, and I think it’s my fault,” Brendon says.

“How is it your fault?”

“The pressure, I suppose. He’s just so bewildered by this whole concept and it’s freaking him the fuck out, and it’s my fault. I should’ve just let him be, and take his own path, but I didn’t. I pushed him along this one, and I don’t know if it was the right thing to do.”

“Are you saying you don’t think he’s right for, what, like, falling in love?” Gerard asks.

“I think that I _think_ he is, but what if I’m wrong, and he loses himself. He’s my best friend. I don’t want to change him necessarily, and I’m nervous that I’m going to do that, and I would hate myself if I made him miserable,” Brendon states, “What if I suffocate him?”

“What if it ends up being good for him?”

“What if it doesn’t? I believe I’m doing the right thing, but I know that I know nothing, so what if I’m wrong? What if I fuck everything up, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“What you’re talking about is just finding him a boyfriend, how could that ruin him?” Gerard asks.

“Well he’s so foreign to the concept. I think a lot of me is especially terrified of choosing the wrong guy, and making him hate me. What if I find him a guy that ends up being such a bad fit? What if I completely ruin his life? He’s so new to this, what if I find him someone bad? Someone who takes advantage of the fact that Frank has no idea what he’s doing?”

“You think Frank’s gullible enough to think someone has any possession over him?” Gerard asks skeptically.

“Well if you didn’t know what you were getting into, Gerard, how would you know? How is he supposed to know? It’s not like there’s a school you can just go to that will show you how to be with someone, and show you how you’re supposed to be treated. You never really think about it, but it’s not something you’re born knowing, it’s something you learn. Something you pick up along the way, and Frank’s done no picking up. I’m not saying it’s likely, I’m saying it’s possible. If he dives into it headfirst, than I think there’s every possibility that he could be stepped all over. If he is, then that’s my fault,” Brendon says.

“Well then just make sure that whoever you find is a really good person,” Gerard says. “Be careful with the selection process.”

“You have no idea how picky he is though. I want someone who’s going to be good to him, but he doesn’t like being coddled, so it’s like trying to find a balance between these two completely opposing things. Someone nice, but not too nice. Really, what I need is to clone Frank, and then he’ll have his perfect soul mate.”

“Well,” Gerard gulps, because he feels so out of place in this conversation, “I mean, he’s out there. The guy for Frank.”

“Nowhere near here though,” Brendon says.

“Maybe he’s really close. Like maybe, he’s in there right now,” Gerard says pointing to the house behind him.

“Yeah, I doubt it,” Brendon says.

“Well, and I’ll have you know that I’ll murder you if you ever tell anyone I said this, but maybe it’s me.”

“Maybe what’s you?”

“I like him. I don’t know why, because he’s kind of a dickhead, but I like him,” Gerard says.

“You’re just saying that,” Brendon brushes him off.

“I mean I think I like him. He’s kind of, I don’t know-”

“Insane.”

“I was gonna say endearing. It makes me want to get to know him. I know I barely know him, but... you ever get a gut feeling like you’re supposed to do something?”

“I usually call that the stomach flu,” Brendon replies.

“No, I’m trying to be serious. I can see why Frank likes you, you have the same sense of humor,” Gerard says, “I just feel really strange around him. Strange because I feel kind of comfortable around him, but I also feel nervous that I feel comfortable around him. I also feel really guilty because I judged him, and I shouldn’t have. He’s really nice.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised. What Frank does isn’t who he is. He’s a little senile, but he’s really honest.”

“God I feel like a teenager. Talking about the guy I like and all that shit,” Gerard says, shaking his head and smiling.

“So you like him,” Brendon states, glad that he wasn’t just delusional about that. He had been pretty sure, but it’s nice to hear Gerard say it.

“I do, actually. You’re not going to tell him, right?” Gerard asks.

“Not in so many words. You have to realize that he’s not going to go for it unless he’s pretty confident that he knows what he’s doing. I’ll _have_ to give him a few hints, but I won’t tell him,” Brendon says. “If anyone is going to be good for him though, I think it’s you, Gerard.”

“Wow, should I feel complemented?”

“I’d say so. I’m basically telling you that I think you can tame a fucking T-Rex. I pity you, but I trust you,” Brendon says.

“So he likes me back then?” Gerard asks.

Brendon snorts, “I don’t know how to answer that. He thinks he’s caught the plague or something, because he doesn’t understand the difference between the Black Death and a crush. He, honestly, is a fucking idiot. Stupidest human being I have ever met. He’s actually really smart, but he’s such a nimrod.”

“So he doesn’t like me,” Gerard asks.

“No, he does. He doesn’t think he does, or he’s going to try to convince himself that he doesn’t, but he does. Honestly, right now, Frank is practically trying to convince himself that gravity isn’t real,” Brendon says. “I really shouldn’t say that, because I’m giving you way too much insight, and you don’t want me to tell him that you like him, so the scale is really tipped on your end, but oh well. Too late now, and you seem much more logical than Frank so you’ll probably use that information better than he would.”

“This is such a strange thing to talk about though. I don’t know what to do. I never take charge, I usually let other people do that for me,” Gerard says.

“Well that’s something that Frank will like about you,” Brendon says offhandedly, “just ask him out or something.”

“Should I? Really?”

“Listen bro, I would not be sitting here talking to you right now, spilling my guts about my fear of losing Frank, if I did not think you were good for him.”

“Wait, did you play me?” Gerard asks. Brendon chuckles, because it took the guy far too long to catch on.

“Like a fiddle,” Brendon says, “easier than I thought it would be, but you opened up, man. The sentiment is still there, you like Frank, I just had to tease it out of you. Just so you know though, if it was that easy to get you to admit you liked Frank, than you would crack under investigation in five minutes flat, so never commit a crime.”

“I...” Gerard says, trying to figure out how he walked into that so easily, but he just sighs, “Okay. Well it was true, what I said.”

“I know, and now you can make the decision to go for it, or rot forever thinking about the ‘what if.’”

“Well what if _you’re_ wrong about Frank?”

“I’m never wrong about Frank. I read that boy like a book. Actually more of an audiobook, I don’t even need to exert any effort to read him.”

“You’re a little arrogant,” Gerard says.

“You call it arrogance, I call it confidence.”

“But the mere definition of arrogance is being overly filled with confidence,” Gerard points out.

“Specifics,” He says waving a hand, “now get back in there, Gerard, and woo that son of a bitch like there’s no tomorrow.”

“Woo?”

“Yeah, I said woo,” Brendon says, “Why does everyone keep calling out my terms? First smitten now woo, what am I supposed to say?”

“Smitten?” Gerard repeats judgmentally.

“Fucking hell! If it bothers people that much, I will buy a fucking thesaurus,” he says, and Gerard laughs at the stupidly serious look on Brendon’s face. It actually looks like he’s genuinely bothered by people insulting his word choice.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Brendon says, “Fine. Go in there and _charm_ Frank. Ugh, I hate that, there’s not as much color in that word.”

Gerard turns and goes back into the house, while Brendon grumbles to himself.


	11. Mysterious Puke in the Sinclair's Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon ate a shit-bunch of chips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got to say, personifying Brendon in this fic is the most fun I've had in weeks.

Frank wakes up to Brendon lying on his living room floor, and that is always the best way to wake up. Or at least the most amusing.

“Why the fuck are you on my floor,” Frank asks.

“I think I decided that trying to drive home was too arduous,” Brendon says, “and I may have had a bottle of Kahlua.”

“I didn’t know I had any Kahlua.”

“It could have been vodka,” Brendon says.

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you? You just ate way too many Oreo’s and wanted me to think you were more hardcore than that. You OD’d on fucking cookies,” Frank says, though he’s not doing much better, he’s lying across his couch with a bag of potato chips stuck to his face.

“That’s absolutely not true,” Brendon says, while Frank peels the bag off his face.

“Oh really?”

“It was Pringles, not Oreo’s.”

“You’re such a fucking loser,” Frank states, while watching Brendon pull himself up onto his feet.

“I am a particularly passionate partygoer.”

“You’re an absurd alliterative asshole,” Frank answers.

“Yep, did Gerard ask you out last night?” Brendon asks, catching Frank a bit off guard.

“Did Gerard do what?”

Brendon rolls his eyes, “Did. Gerard. ask. you. out?”

“Was he supposed to? Why would I tell you,” Frank asks.

“You tell me everything,” Brendon says, “and he should’ve. So did he or didn’t he?”

“Well he gave me his number, but-”

“Then _you_ should ask him out.”

“But I don’t like him.”

“Right, and I don’t like junk food,” Brendon mocks, “just ask him out. For coffee. Or a movie. Or something.”

“But I don’t want to,” Frank says.

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t,” Frank answers.

“Yes you do,” Brendon replies.

“No I don’t,” Frank says.

“C’mon, Frank.”

“Alright fine, maybe a little bit, but I don’t _like_ him.”

“No you just really want to hang out with him, and maybe kiss him,” Brendon says.

“Exactly. No wait,” Frank frowns, “I hate you.”

“I know, and I accept that,” Brendon says, “just ask him out.”

“How do I do that though? I’ve never asked anyone out!” Frank says.

“Well you got his number, right?” Brendon asks, and Frank nods, “well you call that number and say ‘do you want to go out sometime?’ and then you wait for him to respond and you make detailed plans to meet at a predetermined location.”

“That sounds difficult,” Frank says, grabbing his phone.

“No, it’s not,” Brendon says, and grabs Frank’s phone.

“Whoa, what are you doing?” Frank scrambles up and tries to grab the phone from his friend.

“I’m going to do step one for you, and actually call Gerard,” Brendon says, scrolling through the contact list.

“No, I haven’t planned anything to say, give it back!” 

“Okay,” Brendon answers, but not before pressing the call button, and the dial tone has already started by the time Frank gets it back.

“What did you do?” Frank asks.

“Called Gerard for you, you’re welcome,” Brendon says.

“No! Dude. What?” Frank tries to say.

“Just talk to Gerard,” he says, and Frank puts the speaker to his ear to hear that it’s still ringing.

“I need to put a lock on my phone,” Frank grumbles, but he doesn’t cancel the call, though he’s not sure why.

“Yeah, you probably do.”

“I fucking hate you,” he says just as someone picks up.

“What?”

“No! Not you. Brendon, he stole my phone,” Frank says, because that was Gerard, and he just accidentally told Gerard that he hated him and he really didn’t mean to do that.

“I did not steal your phone, I borrowed it,” Brendon says.

“You’re an asshole,” Frank says, covering the speaker, “hi, sorry.”

“What was that about?” Gerard asks.

“Brendon took my phone and called you, and now he’s looking at me and it’s freaking me out,” Frank says.

Brendon mouths the words, ‘just ask him,’ to which Frank responds with a selective finger.

The doorbell rings then and Frank can hardly keep all everything straight. Brendon stole his phone, and now Gerard is on the other end, while his neighbors are at the door.

“Here, Brendon, you called Gerard,” Frank hands the phone to him, “I’ll get the door.”

“No, I’ll get the door,” Brendon says trying to give the phone back.

Frank is already stepping into the entrance hall though when he says, “too late. Apologize to Gerard for calling him.”

“I will do no such thing,” Brendon calls back, but he decides to tune Brendon out when Frank answers the door.

Mr. Sinclair has his signature style of khaki’s and a T-shirt, while his wife reeks of fabric softener in her generic garage sale attire.

“Hello neighbors, what can I do for you today?”

“Someone puked on our lawn,” Mrs. Sinclair says with daggers in her eyes.

“Really? Well now isn’t that a bummer. I’m sorry to hear that. Are you sure it’s not oatmeal?” Frank asks.

“Yes, I am sure,” Mr. Sinclair says.

“I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe next time, try to keep your guests a little more under control,” Frank says cheerily.

“It wasn’t a guess of ours who did it,” she says.

“Well I certainly don’t know who could’ve done it.”

“You told us this would happen!”

“Hm, but do you have any proof? Unless you can prove to me that one of my friends puked on your lawn, I’m afraid I’m going to have to be skeptical,” Frank says, making his acting stale to annoy them as much as he can.

“We want you to take care of it,” Mrs. Sinclair says.

“Oh sorry, I can’t do that. You see, the whole property line thing makes it not my problem.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry, _you_ were the ones who wanted me to abide by the property line weren’t you. _You_ were the ones who yelled at me when my untrimmed grass was infringing on your lawn, so if you honestly care that much about the institution of that distinct property line, than you will understand why I’ll let you take care of the puke on _your_ side of it,” Frank says.

“It was one of your guests that made the mess!”

“Yes so you say, but as I stated before, I don’t see any proof of that,” Frank answers, and then calls behind him, “Brendon, did you puke in the Sinclair’s yard?”

“Nope!” he says. Frank can hear him still talking though, so he’s probably still on the phone with Gerard, and Frank sighs.

“Yeah, than I’m afraid I’m going to say you two should take responsibility,” Frank smiles plastically. He is passive aggressive sure, but those two have done far more to make his life hard than he has done in return. Call this returning the favor.

“Now we both know who’s at fault here,” Mr. Sinclair says.

“Do we now?” Frank asks, mocking curiosity, “I’ll tell you what. You get Benedict Cumberbatch or Robert Downey Jr. over here to confirm that the vomit on your yard is, in fact, through my own fault, then I will clean it up. Until then however, I’ll let you take care of it.”

They both open their mouths as if Frank had just said the most horrendous swear word known to mankind, and he grins at them.

“If that’ll be all, I really do have some Satan worshiping I would like to get back to,” Frank states, and then slams the door shut in front of him.

“You have a date with Gerard!” Brendon yells as Frank enters back into the living room.

“I have a what?”

“A date with Gerard, you have.”

“Yeah shut up, Yoda,” Frank says, turning his back to Brendon to hide the fact that he’s smiling a little bit. “And when is this date?”

“Tonight, and you’re going to take him to a nice restaurant,” Brendon says firmly.

“I don’t even _know_ any nice restaurants. What’s a nice restaurant?”

“One where the signature dish on the menu has no deep-fried components,” Brendon says.

Frank makes a face, “So does that mean he likes me? I mean, it’s not like I like him or anything, because I don’t, but does he like _me_?”

“Yes, Frank,” Brendon says, grabbing Frank’s shoulder, “He likes you. Stop denying it, you like him too.”

“But I-”

“I will pay for your meal, Frank, if you admit that you like Gerard.”

“What, really?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Brendon says, exasperatedly. He is sick of Frank negating that he’s totally crushing on Gerard.

“Okay, well I like him. I like him a lot. I like Gerard so much that every time he talks to me, I get goose bumps, and I can’t help it. He makes me crazy,” Frank says, barely containing the part where he direly wants to say ‘there are you happy now?’

Brendon grins, “I fucking knew it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me so long to upload this because I'm trying to finish off this one-shot, which I should hopefully have up in a few hours.


	12. Ready To Go (Yes, That's a Panic Reference)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank discusses the dirt he has on Brendon, which goes both ways.

“How do I look?”

“Like a horse,” Brendon replies.

“Dude, seriously,” Frank narrows his eyes, “how do I look. I feel like I look like I’m trying too hard. Should I dress down, or dress up? Do I need a different shirt? I need a different shirt don’t I? Oh god, I look stupid.”

“Frank, you look fine. I mean, your hair is a mess, and there’s not enough time to fix your ugly-ass face, but you look fine.”

“Fine? But I want to look good. I don’t want to be adequate. I want to be hot,” Frank says.

“Well like I said, your hair is a disaster,” Brendon answers.

“Well what do I do with it? What am I supposed to do with my hair?”

“It looks too formal, mess it up a little bit,” Brendon says. Frank shrugs, and then runs a hand through his hair. He turns to look at Brendon with a questioning look in his eye, and Brendon nods approvingly.

“Okay, good. Now have you thought about what you’re going to talk about?” Brendon questions.

“No! I haven’t had time to prepare,” he says, and falls back on his bed like he’s given hope already. Brendon just frowns and rolls his eyes at him.

“You are an idiot. Find common links, dumbass. Pretend you’re just meeting a friend. Pretend he’s just me, but obviously he’s not as handsome and enthralling. Do try to act a little bit less like a douchebag with him than you do with me. Try not to call him a dickhead, or an ass-hat, or things like that, he probably wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Aren’t I supposed to be myself though? I am a douchebag, Brendon. That’s what makes me so likeable and stimulating,” Frank says to the ceiling.

“Well be yourself, but it’s okay to tone down the insults for a few hours. You think he’s cute right, try to avoid saying things like ‘you’re hot,’ and please for the sake of god, don’t bring up his sex appeal. Also steer clear of talking about his sex life. Compliment his personality, and if you _have_ to tell him that you like the way he looks, keep it above the shoulders. Tell him he’s got a nice smile, or pretty eyes, do not say he has a nice ass.”

“But he does have a nice ass,” Frank replies.

“He probably knows that,” Brendon answers, trying to reason with himself that the date isn’t going to go as bad as he thinks it will.

“It’s so generic to say that he has nice eyes though,” Frank groans, “what else?”

“Well his laugh for instance. If he’s got a good laugh, tell him. The point is to make them personal compliments, not somatic or hollow. Personality is really the best way to go. Funny, sweet, talented, smart, honest, that’s what people really like being complimented on.”

“Am I hopeless?” Frank asks.

“Yes,” Brendon replies, and then Frank groans. “Relax, Frank. I’m kidding. You will do fine, I know you will.”

“What do I do if things go awry?”

“How so?”

“Well,” Frank considers, “what if I accidentally insult him, or what if I judge him? What if he brings up the coffee shop thing? What if he brings up _my_ sex life?”

“I doubt you’ll run into that problem, but if you do have an issue like that, then try to change the subject. If it gets really really really bad, then you call me, but only as a last resort. Just excuse yourself to the bathroom and call me if you absolutely have to.”

“Okay so what’s taboo? What do I not talk about?” Frank asks.

“Religion and politics are best to avoid unless you’re fairly sure you’re on the same page there. Don’t ask him about his ex, but if he talks about his ex, then go along with it. If he talks about how they broke up, or why they were incompatible, then you should take Gerard’s side on whatever disagreements the two of them may have had,” Brendon says.

“And what should I focus on?”

“Childhood is always a good place to start. Work can be fruitful. Movies, books, music, TV, and things like that are good. If you have to, you can even debate about the moral implications of being a Death Eater. It doesn’t matter, just find common ground, and make him laugh.”

“What would I even do without you?” Frank says, pulling himself up to have his feet hang off the bed in a sitting position.

“Well for one thing you probably would’ve saved a whole bunch of money on Skittles.”

“That’s true,” Frank agrees.

“But you would be ultimately worse off, and might have accidentally electrocuted yourself.”

“I’m not the one who broke that toaster,” Frank says.

“No, but you were the one who thought putting it in the sink would be a good idea.”

“That was two fucking years ago! Can you let it go already?”

“You still bring up the Bed, Bath and Beyond incident, Frank,” Brendon answers.

“How could I _not_ bring up the Bed, Bath and Beyond incident?” Frank replies.

“And you wonder why I make fun of you around electrical cords?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Frank retorts.

“That is an example of something you should avoid saying to Gerard.”

“But other than that, I am ready right?” Frank asks, pulling himself back up onto his feet.

“Honestly?” Brendon squints his eyes.

“Oh god, I’m not am I?”

Brendon rolls his eyes, “Actually I was going to say that I think you are, Frank. I think you’ve got this. Remember though that this isn’t the end of the world, if it goes bad, it’s just one date. Proposition to Gerard that this be your actual first date, and forget about the real one. You can do it though, I know it.”

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Frank says, smiling.

“You really think so little of me,” Brendon says shaking his head at Frank. 

“But I still wuv you Bwendon,” Frank says dotingly.

Brendon shakes his head, “another example of something not to say to Gerard.”

“And what if we repeat date one?” 

Brendon sighs, but he cannot even believe how worried Frank is. It’s endearing, really it is. It shows that Frank has a soul and a conscience that may not always see the light of day, but are buried under his thick skin anyway. His heart’s there, it might need to grow three sizes so that he can lose the greenish color now stuck to his nervously pale face, but it’s there all the same.

“Well you got over that one didn’t you? You can always do it again, and Gerard isn’t the only man on earth, you know. I like Gerard, or at least I approve of him, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only guy in the world.”

“Yeah, but he’s the only guy in the world who I _want_ to go on a date with. You can’t just pick me up any other guy, as we’ve proved, because I just end up sleeping with them and ruining any chance I may have at a relationship,” Frank says.

“But please try to remember that Gerard was the closest I got anyway, a little more digging I could find someone else, someone similar. You want someone nice, but not someone who’s so sweet that they melt in the rain. That’s why you and Patrick didn’t quite work. Gerard is a good fit, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only person in the world who would be willing to go out with you.”

“Yeah, but you’re wrong about that. You can’t find anyone like Gerard. Not anyone even similar to him. Gerard is really special, Brendon.”

“That may have been the most human thing I’ve ever heard _you_ say.”

“Oh shit really? Did I accidentally say something profound and insightful that refutes the nature of my dark and flakey soul? Gerard is a dick. There, better?”

“It’s not always a bad thing to be nice, Frank.”

“No, but it makes it easier for people to walk all over you,” Frank says offhandedly, but Brendon can’t help himself from thinking that there is definitely something behind those words. He’s not sure what, and he’s not invasive enough to ask directly, but it sounds like Frank might have a deep-seated story there.

If there’s something there, Brendon can’t be sure, but he forgets to consider it a moment later, because Frank’s nervous energy is contagious. Part of Brendon and even Frank, feel like this may very well be the biggest date of anyone’s life. It’s scary to think it might not work out, but there’s also that strange energy telling them that it really will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this fic might be like 2-3 chapters longer than I'd originally thought, but that's okay.


	13. Trek vs. Wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's an idiot, but that was already established.

Gerard really should be more accustomed to dates, having been on several more than Frank, but he’s just as nervous. He might even be _more_ nervous. Gerard still feels guilty about judging Frank’s character prematurely when they first met, and it embarrasses him to even think about it.

It doesn’t help that when he sees Frank his heart does a cartwheel. Frank is gorgeous on a bad day, but today is not a bad day. It’s a very good day, and Gerard thinks he might faint. Gerard tries to check his reflection in the window by the door, but it’s not dark enough for him to really see himself. He just hopes his hair doesn’t look too stupid.

“Hi Frank,” Gerard says biting his lip. It feels like it’s been years since he last saw the guy, even though it was less than twenty four hours ago.

“Hi, hello, hey,” Frank says, because he doesn’t know what term to use, so he might as well use them all. It could’ve been worse. He could’ve started greeting Gerard in Elven or Klingon.

“So hi.”

“Yeah,” Frank replies, and they’re just standing looking at each other.

“I’m honestly surprised you’d want to give this another go after last time,” Gerard says.

“Me too. I mean about you, I guess I’m not surprised that I wanted to, I’m surprised that _you_ did,” Frank says, feeling his face heat up. This never happens. He doesn’t get nervous in front of people, but Gerard is just so foreign to him. 

In so many ways the guy doesn’t make sense. The last time Frank had a real, honest to god crush, was in the second grade. It’s been so long now he doesn’t even remember the guy’s name, but it had been a fifth grader, and he had a really cool Pokémon lunchbox.

“We should probably sit down,” Gerard says and Frank kicks himself because yeah, that’s a good idea, and he’s an idiot.

Frank makes a calculated decision to sit in the seat adjacent to the one that Gerard sits in. On the off chance that he can get Gerard into a mindset where he’d willingly kiss Frank, it would be nearly impossible to do it across the table, but if he sits right next to him, the odds are much higher. It’s not like he’s necessarily expecting Gerard to kiss him, but it’ll be easier this way if he decides he wants to. 

Frank’s in a precarious situation, however, where he really does have to wait for Gerard to make the first move. If Frank tries to kiss him it’ll come across as a segue into sex, even if he doesn’t mean it to. Considering all the shit he did at the coffee shop, makes it pretty hard for Frank to take charge. It’s not a familiar position for Frank. He’s usually used to being somewhat in charge of things, and it’s kind of invigorating to not have to worry about that with Gerard right now. 

What he wants is to just spend time with Gerard, and it seems so unimportant to sleep with the guy. That’s kind of like an afterthought to him. Frank wouldn’t necessarily say no, but there’s so many more important things.

That thought alone is completely new to him. Sex has never been something that’s put on the back burner, at least not with Frank. What makes Gerard so special?

Gerard is having similar thoughts of Frank. Why on earth did he give the guy a second chance? Why on earth did he admit to the guy’s best friend that he likes him? That was really stupid of him, when Gerard thinks back on it. Brendon had played him so easily, and it makes him wince thinking about it.

They both forget to speak entirely until their waiter comes to take their drink order, and Frank is a little perplexed because it’s seriously been years since he was last at a restaurant where they did that. Brendon wasn’t exaggerating, his diet is not overly fancy.

A few minutes later the silence is a little more uncomfortable, and Frank has to cast his mind back a few hours to what Brendon had said. Talk about things you have in common. Talk about childhood. Talk about work. Don’t talk about religion or politics. 

“Well, I’m really not good at starting conversation, but if one of us doesn’t than this isn’t going to be the most interesting date,” Frank says.

“You’re completely right, but I’ve been trying to refrain from telling you that I’m a little breathless at how gorgeous you are,” Gerard answers, and Frank blushes the way Gerard did when they first met.

“Brendon told me I should avoid complimenting you on your looks, because I’m a hopeless idiot who doesn’t know how to go on a date and needs advice from his blockheaded friend, but given the fact that you said it first, I will gladly return the compliment.”

“Well there you go. Ice broken?”

“I don’t know, the ice is pretty thick, you might need a pick to get at it.”

“I’ll just throw a brick at the ice.”

“Do you normally carry bricks on your person or am I a special case?”

Gerard grins stupidly, “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been asked that.”

“Oh really? Well I can ask you a bunch of strange questions if you like. Kirk or Picard?” Frank says.

“Well my instinct was to say Kirk, because he was the original, but Patrick Stewart has that gorgeous bald head, so I’m going to have to go with option two.”

“Do you like Star Trek?”

“I’m more of a Star Wars fan myself,” Gerard replies.

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” Frank says making a face.

“Apparently not very enthusiastic.”

“It’s kind of a deal breaker for me,” Frank jokes.

“Is it now?”

“Yep, I’m afraid you’re dead to me.”

“That’s unfortunate, we haven’t even ordered food yet,” Gerard grins, “you sure you can’t accept me for who I am?”

“Well when you put it that way,” Frank shrugs.

“Do you usually alienate people based on their sci-fi preferences or am I the special case for _you_?”

“No, Brendon went through a brutal training process to be my friend. The fucker didn’t even know what a tribble was. He’s really passionate about the Ghostbusters though.”

Gerard shakes his head, “You and Brendon have a strange relationship.”

“Oh god, I should tell you about this one time when Brendon and I were at Bed, Bath and Beyond.”

~*~*~*~

Gerard’s just caught in the moment, really. He sees Frank looking at him with eyes like a puppy dogs, brown and big. It’s a little ridiculous how attracted to him Gerard is. It’s like someone modeled this perfect human being, an absolutely one hundred percent perfect human being, specifically for Gerard. Frank is this flawlessly sculpted man and Gerard doesn’t understand how it’s permissible to be that gorgeous.

In Frank’s wildest dreams, he did not see Gerard’s move coming, because all Gerard has to do is grab onto Frank’s hand, and pull him closer, and that’s it. Gerard must have a way with subliminal messaging or something. 

The move is simple, but effective because all it takes is a tug on Frank’s fingers and Gerard’s kissing him. Frank pretty much blacks out.

Frank isn’t a big kisser. That’s not really the point of a one-night stand. Kissing creates closeness. It’s fine in the moment, a few sly ones here and there, but he doesn’t just kiss people. It’s weird, and far too intimate. He doesn’t feel that way now though. Gerard is very different.

Gerard practically attacks Frank’s mouth, biting down on his lower lip for dear life, and Frank goes with it. Gerard’s aware of absolutely everything, but also nothing at all right now. He can feel the warmth of Frank’s hand which he still hasn’t relinquished and he’s fairly sure that either one or both of their hands are sweating. He’s aware of his eyes, half-lidded and hungry with longing. Frank’s are closed gently, and his nose is on the verge of bumping against Gerard’s. There’s Frank’s breath which is the only thing he can really taste at the moment and it’s unique to Frank. Unlike anything else, but very warm and inviting.

When did Gerard put his hand on the side of Frank’s neck? He can’t remember. Frank’s pretty sure his other hand is lying limply by his side, and he can’t find the will to move it.

Frank really would stay here forever if he could, and it scares him that he wants to. He can’t hear much of anything besides the rush of blood in his ear. He’s vaguely aware of clinking around him, and there’s the distinct prickling on the back of his neck that someone is looking directly at him. It’s probably some old person who objects to two guys kissing, or a little kid who doesn’t know any better, but Frank doesn’t care. He really doesn’t because he wants to kiss Gerard. 

Frank is pretty sure that this was an episode of What Would You Do? once, and he only knows that because Brendon is oddly infatuated with the weatherman on channel 5, so he wouldn’t exactly be surprised if someone yelled at them, but he’s having a moment. He’s having a moment that most people have when their teenagers during their first kiss to some kid from there English class behind a K-mart. It’s just that moment of ‘holy fuck, I’m fucking kissing someone and it’s fucking perfect.’

As much as he’d like to stay here though, the moment is shattered when a cell phone goes off. Frank would gladly ignore it, but Gerard doesn’t because apparently, it’s _his_ phone.

“Fuck,” Gerard says, a little too loudly.

Frank spots the person who he’d felt watching them and it’s a little girl, no older than seven, who makes the loudest gasp Frank could possibly fathom.

“Sorry,” Gerard says to her and her parents, who are now looking at him disdainfully. Gerard looks down at the phone, and his face makes a disappointed expression.

“I’m so sorry, Frank,” Gerard sighs, “I’m going to... yeah I’m going to reject it.”

“It’s fine, you can answer. Who is it?”

“No it’s not important, I’m not going to answer.”

“Why? Who is it?”

“It’s... Frank, I didn’t exactly ask him to call!” Gerard says.

“Oh, so,” Frank says feeling hurt, because he’s pretty sure he knows who it is, “your ex?”

“Yes, and I’m not going to answer it,” Gerard says, and he presses the end call button so the ringing stops. That makes Frank a bit happier. At this time of the night, Frank knows precisely what that call was, and Gerard declined it for him.

The moment is gone though. There’s just no way to lean back in without being awkward, and Frank’s a little pissed off about that. He’s starting to hate this ex-boyfriend a lot more than he had already. He wasn’t aware of hating him in the first place, but the fact that Gerard liked him and keeps going back to him, really bothers Frank.

Gerard’s phone rings again though. He looks really irritated about it this time, and Frank leans back in his chair, trying to keep the scorn out of his eyes.

“If I don’t answer he’s just going to keep calling,” Gerard says, “and if I turn it off, then he’ll just leave a bunch of voice messages.”

Frank runs his tongue along the front of his teeth, and says derisively, “No, please. Answer, I don’t mind. Why would I?”

“Frank,” Gerard says, unamused, “Let me just tell him to go away. Please?”

“Yeah, whatever, I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” Frank says, and leaves the table before he can even hear Gerard’s response.

The bathroom is around the corner from where there table is, and there’s a side door that leads outside. Frank decides to step outside, leaving his shoe as a doorstop.

Frank’s fingers are grabbing his phone and calling Brendon before he can even give it a second thought.

“What happened?” Brendon says as a greeting.

“His ex called him, Brendon! His ex! Gerard is on the phone with him _right_ now.”

“Wait, Gerard _answered_?” Brendon asks, emphasizing his disbelief on the last word. Apparently he totally sides with Frank on that one.

“Yes, Brendon. He answered!” Frank says despairingly.

“Tell me it wasn’t on the first ring or anything.”

“No. He rejected the call. The guy called back though,” Frank says.

“Wait,” Brendon says, taking on a new tone, “are you trying to tell me that he rejected the first call, but picked up the second? Are you a complete idiot, Frank?”

“What did I do?” Frank asks defensively. Maybe Brendon doesn’t side with him.

“Well am I right in guessing that he only answered to tell the guy to go away?”

“Well... yes.”

“Then get the fuck back in there you idiot!” Brendon shouts, “He’s probably more embarrassed about it than you are!”

“But-”

“No but’s. You’re jealous, right? That’s why you’re so wigged out. You’re jealous that his ex called.”

“I guess,” Frank says.

“Well fuck,” Brendon says, “Frank, you’re best friend is a gay guy. I am gay, I am your best friend, do you know what idea that probably puts into his head? He accepts that of you, _you_ have to accept that his ex might be a little clingy. If he’s not jealous of your friendship with me, you can’t be jealous of that fucking ex.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m the one in the wrong here?”

“That is precisely what I’m telling you. Get back in there, _right now_!”

“One more thing-”

“Is it about Gerard’s ex?” Brendon asks.

“Yes, I wanted to-” the connection ends. Frank frowns and takes the phone away from his ear, and looks back at it. Brendon hung up on him!

Frank decides to be angry about that later, because Brendon was probably right about getting the fuck back in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is not upsetting I promise. This one set it up to make it seem like it would be, but it isn't.


	14. Sooner or Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two guys permanently scar a little girl in a fancy restaurant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this chapter to the wrong fic! That's the second time I've done that. Thanks to Shyrianz for pointing that out.

Frank walks back into the restaurant, shaking a little more than he probably should, and he feels really awful about leaving Gerard, but at least he’s coming back. The thought had occurred to him that he’s such an idiot that he could just run away to spare his dignity, but he decided against it. If Gerard weren’t so fantastic Frank probably _would have_ run away.

He sees Gerard looking down at the table with his head in his hands and Frank takes a deep breath before walking back over to him.

“It’s okay, I’m okay. Minor freak out,” Frank says when he steps back to the table, “but I’m okay.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?” Gerard asks.

“Yes. Try to remember that I’m not used to this whole dating thing, I’m still learning.”

“I made him go away,” Gerard says. “I really wouldn’t have planned that, and I totally fucking ruined everything, but I made him go away. I’m moving on from him now, and I’m such an idiot for answering. I’m kind of a fuckup.”

The people at the table next to them gasp again, and Frank rolls his eyes. That little girl is not a special snowflake, everyone has overheard someone drop the F-bomb. She’s going to hear people swear all the time, and it’s too late now.

“Well she was going to learn the word sooner or later,” Frank says looking at them, “just be thankful he didn’t say-”

“Frank,” Gerard stops him warningly.

“Right, sorry,” Frank turns to look at the family and the little girl who is way too scandalized by the word. She’s right about at that age where swearing isn’t cool yet. She’ll get there.

They try to quietly return to their respective conversations, but it’s obvious that both tables keep sparing glances at each other. Frank doesn’t really care.

“What were you saying?” Frank asks, “Oh yeah you definitely are an idiot for answering, but I ran away so I can share the award for stupidest person at this table.”

“I blocked his number,” Gerard says.

“Really?” Frank can’t help but be a little surprised, and... honored?

“Yeah. It’s been too long. I’ve been on his hook for too long, I want to just be free.”

“Wow, that’s... wow. Congratulations?”

Gerard makes a sound that’s like a nervous laugh, “It feels weird. I kind of feel like I got my freedom back, which is such a stupid thing to say, but it’s true. I mean it really is a big deal for me.”

“No, you should be proud. That’s an accomplishment. I think you’re a lot stronger than you think you are, Gerard.”

Gerard blushes for the umpteenth time, and Frank is starting to realize that he has a superpower. He can make Gerard blush on command. It’s actually kind of cool.

“I mean, I’d hate me if I were you. I’d be so horrible to me right now, but you’re not like that, and it’s pretty great that you aren’t.”

“I have to ask,” Frank says with a gulp, “does my friendship with Brendon intimidate you?”

“What? Oh god, no! I mean, at first, but no. Especially not after hearing _that_ story,” he says.

Frank laughs, because he’s thankful about that. He kind of disagrees with Brendon a little bit though. Gerard has no right to be jealous of their friendship, but it’s good that he isn’t anyway. That could drive a wedge between them. It’s true that however nice Gerard is, Frank would cut the guy loose in ten seconds flat if he disapproved of Brendon.

“Why did you ask? Fuck, I really did shatter that moment didn’t I?” Gerard says.

“No, well I mean yes. I was just wondering, I promise. You said you blocked his number, and I guess that just made me wonder. What can I say, I got a little jealous, and I wanted to make sure you didn’t think Brendon was anything but my totally disgusting platonic friend. You know? Like I hoped that you weren’t jealous,” Frank says, and his superpower goes both ways, because now _he’s_ turning pink.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should apologize more, but it seems that half of the times I’m talking to you, I’m apologizing. I just really shouldn’t have picked up that phone,” Gerard says putting his head in his hands.

“Gerard! It’s fine. You don’t need to feel like that. I hope you don’t feel as guilty as you look. The circumstances would be different if you hadn’t blocked his number, but you did. I-I’m not saying that I think that it was because of me that you did that, but I mean, I really like you right now, so it means a lot to me anyway.”

“It’s partially because of you,” Gerard shrugs, and Frank tries to hide himself from smiling.

“It would just really suck for me to find out you didn’t like Brendon, because then I’d have to leave whatever this is right here and now.”

“He means a lot?”

“Well no offense, but right now this is a _potential_ relationship. Brendon’s my best friend, no potential about it.”

Gerard nods, “I wish I had someone I cared that much about. Well, besides my brother.”

“As an only child, Brendon is like my brother.”

“I was really wrong about you, Frank,” Gerard says looking happy about the words.

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were really heartless, I thought you didn’t care about anyone but yourself. You really aren’t like that. You’re really compassionate, and I was an idiot for not noticing that.”

Frank shrugs, “well that’s what I try to make people think about me, so you really can’t be blamed.”

“But it was stupid to think that’s all there is,” Gerard says, “god, I’m such a ditz sometimes.”

“Yeah, but you’re a cute ditz.”

“Did we get over that bump?” Gerard asks, and Frank thinks about it. He smiles, because he’s pretty sure they did.

“I keep making an idiot of myself in front of you, and I cannot believe you put up with it,” Frank shakes his head.

“It’s because I’m trusting you to put up with all the times _I_ make an idiot of myself.”

“We’re just a couple of idiots.”

“Hey, Frank can I ask you a question?”

“It depends on what the question is,” Frank replies.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Yeah, you can ask that question,” Frank says.

“Well I just said it,” Gerard responds.

“But you asked if you could ask a question. I said you could ask that question so now you have to ask it,” Frank says, because he’s an annoying bastard.

“Can I kiss you again?” Gerard repeats.

“Yeah you can do that,” Frank grins sheepishly.

Usually it’s not very romantic to ask someone if you can kiss them, but there’s something so childish and innocent when Gerard did. Also Frank really wants to kiss him, so there was no way he was going to say no to that one.

Gerard is a good kisser. Frank has come to the conclusion that Gerard _must_ be an above average kisser. He came to that conclusion quite easily, because if other people were that good at kissing, than Frank would have indulged in it more. Fuck, if other people were that good at kissing there would be prostitutes who doled out kisses instead of sex.

Maybe there’s a reason that that isn’t a thing. Kissing really is a million times more intimate than fucking. You fuck for fun, and ultimately the goal is to feel good physically, but that’s not at all what kissing is. You can screw anybody and it’ll feel good, but that’s not true of a kiss. You’ve got to find someone you want to kiss.

Frank absolutely loves the way that Gerard’s mouth feels against his, and he’s pretty sure he is now floating. He’s either floating or his head is full of helium, but that’s not exactly impossible right now. He’s pretty elated at the moment.

Frank hears the little girl at the table next to them say a very long and strung out, “ewwwwwww.”

Frank decides to flip her off. She was going to learn that sooner or later as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys seem to be more likely to comment if I ask you to comment, so I'm going to ask you to comment and hopefully the trend continues to be true.


	15. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on.

Brendon didn’t really intend to run into Gerard, but given the fact that Gerard is there at a table by himself, he just decides, ‘hey why not?’

“Hi Gerard,” Brendon says, in greeting, and the redhead looks up surprised. He’s staring down at his phone intently, and the blue light illuminates the bottom half of his face. When Brendon greets him, he only looks like he’s half there.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Gerard says.

“I’m always here,” Brendon says, because it is, after all, the only gay bar in town.

Brendon points to the seat across from Gerard, silently asking permission to sit down and Gerard nods, “oh, please sit down.”

Brendon isn’t short, but the chairs here have massive legs, so his legs do dangle a few inches from the ground. Gerard turns his phone off to look at Brendon.

“Did Frank say anything to you about last night?” Gerard asks, getting quickly to the point.

“Not much,” Brendon says, because Frank had never called back after the breakdown he’d had. He talked to Brendon for five minutes about Gerard’s ex, and he hasn’t heard from the guy since.

“Oh,” Gerard answers dejectedly and he lowers his head to look at the table somberly.

“Why? Did something happen?” Brendon asks.

“No. Well, yes. Nothing, but something, but then... I don’t know,” Gerard’s hair is falling over his face, hiding his eyes, so Brendon’s now having a conversation with Gerard’s fringe.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Brendon says, wondering what the fuck could’ve happened this time.

“Well, everything was going fine, but then he just got all scared and I don’t know what I did.”

Brendon groans outwardly, slouching down in the seat, because he knows how stupid Frank can be. He’s probably done yet another dumb thing that makes Gerard think he hates him. Frank is a very strange person who often talks to people in a way that makes people think he’s annoyed with everything they say. Brendon wouldn’t be surprised if Frank accidentally started doing that with Gerard, and Gerard is now under the impression that Frank was bored on the date. 

Frank had been so excited and nervous for the date though, so Brendon wants to believe that he did enjoy himself. He would hate for Frank to have discovered that he really didn’t like Gerard at all, because then all his work would be down the drain. Also, Gerard would be pretty bummed out about it, but Brendon sees Frank more so he cares more about the guy’s feelings.

“What did he do?”

Gerard shrugs, “I guess I scared him off. I didn’t mean to, but he seemed like he was really into me, and I thought we were having a good time.”

“You’re going to have to tell me what all happened. I’ll talk with Frank about it.”

“No! Please don’t. It’s my fault, I don’t want to embarrass myself any further than I already have. The bottom line is that Frank and I... we just aren’t going to work out.”

Brendon’s heart falls a little bit. That’s the last thing he’d wanted to hear Gerard say.

“Why though? Frank was so excited. He... you have to tell me what happened. I can talk to him, try to get through that thick skull of his.”

Gerard frowns again, “but that’s the thing. I don’t even know what happened! We were doing just fine, and I plucked up the courage to kiss him, and he even seemed happy about it, but then out of nowhere he just freaked out.”

“It was just nerves I’m sure,” Brendon says, but he’s not sure at all.

“Nerves don’t make a person bolt seconds after paying the bill,” Gerard answers. “He doesn’t like me, its fine. You can’t win every battle.”

“But Frank _does_ like you. I know he likes you! This is all just messed up,” Brendon shakes his head, “do not tell yourself Frank doesn’t like you. He’s being a whiney toddler.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry, I have to go have a long heated conversation with Frank,” Brendon says before standing up. He walks away from Gerard leaving him with no more words than that.

“Were we having a conversation?” Gerard calls after him.

“I have a midget to go knock some sense into,” Brendon yells back.

~*~*~*~

Brendon arrives in front of Frank’s house to see two people knocking furiously on the front door. He goes up to stand in front of the door behind them, but they don’t even notice him.

“Excuse me, but how long have you two been knocking?” Brendon asks.

The Sinclair’s both jump, startled, but turn to him and say, “we know he’s in there, we heard his phone ringing not too long ago.”

Brendon sighs, because he’d been the one who called.

“Give me a ballpark estimation for how long you’ve been trying,” Brendon instructs.

“About half an hour,” the woman says, and Brendon doesn’t know whether to be horrified by their determination or impressed.

“Well go the fuck away, he’s having an existential crisis,” Brendon says, but when the two of them don’t move, he crosses his arms. “I will call the cops and accuse you two of trespassing if you don’t get away from this house right the fuck now.”

Both of their eyes widen and they decide to step around Brendon carefully, and away from the front door. Brendon smiles, because he didn’t think that would work.

“I’d say thank you, but it’s common courtesy to know when you’re unwelcome anyway!” Brendon shouts after them, and then turns back to the door. He has a spare key to Frank’s house that’s only to be used in emergency’s, but Frank’s not answering his phone even when he’s clearly in the house. Brendon decides now is as good a time as any to use the key.

Brendon opens the door, and unlocks it behind them. It looks eerily dark in the living room, telling Brendon that Frank either hasn’t woken up, or hasn’t gotten out of bed yet.

“Frank!”

“Go away!” Frank calls from upstairs, so Brendon decides he is awake. Brendon is a proper genius sometimes.

He decides, as any sane person would, not to go away, and makes his way up the stairs. Frank’s bedroom door is ajar, and he opens it further tentatively, but he doesn’t see Frank in his bed or anywhere else in his room.

“Frank?”

“I told you to go away!” Frank yells, and Brendon brings his eyebrows together when he realizes where Frank is. The door to Frank’s closet is shut, and Brendon walks over to it so that he can confirm his suspicion.

Frank doesn’t use his closet for much of anything, because he has a dresser, so it’s pretty much empty aside from some miscellaneous crap. One of the miscellaneous items in Frank’s closet is his foot, which is attached to his leg, which is probably attached to his torso and so on. Brendon has to go with probably because there’s a coat hanging from a bar in the closet that’s hiding the rest of Frank’s body.

Brendon rolls his eyes and shoves the coat away to see Frank hiding with his arms wrapped around his legs, in an almost fetal like position.

“Dude, you’re closet lurking days ended in high school,” Brendon says, “how about you go and join the real world?”

“I can’t,” Frank replies.

“You’re so stubborn,” Brendon says, but he decides to take a seat in the closet opposite Frank. There’s a clothes hanger poking into his back, but he picks it up and throws it to the side.

“Why are you here?”

“Gerard told me you ran off last night?”

“Oh god,” Frank says, letting his head fall onto his knees which are pulled up into his body. “You already found out about that?”

“Would you care to explain to me why?”

“I can’t do it, Brendon. He kissed me, and it was _amazing_ , but then I realized what it meant, and I can’t do that. I don’t know how, and I don’t want to be a burden on Gerard. It’s one thing to have a crush on a guy, but it’s another to date someone. I can’t date him, Brendon, that’s not who I am.”

“It could be who you are.”

“But I’m scared. I’m not that kind of person, and I don’t know how to be. Gerard was going to figure it out sooner or later, that I’m just not for him. I can never be a person who gives him a relationship like that. I’m a fucking useless one-night stand douchebag with a penchant for messing things up.”

“You’re too afraid to be involved with Gerard because you don’t wanna mess it up?” Brendon asks.

“Exactly!”

“That’s bullshit, Frank. Ninety percent of a relationship is messing things up. You will mess something up every goddamn day of your life, and that’s how you keep a relationship fresh. No one knows what they’re doing, and you seem to think that they do. Frank, everyone is as hopeless as you are.”

“That’s not possible.”

“It really is. You are going to make thousands of mistakes in your life. Millions, actually. Dating Gerard is not one of them. Even if things don’t work out, and who says that’s going to be the case, but even if they don’t, you have to take the chance. If you never take a chance, you’ll never accomplish anything.”

“I’m so scared though,” Frank replies. “I’ve never done this before, and it’s so daunting. Like, I can’t like him. I don’t want to like him, but I do, and it’s scary. I never care this much about other people, it’s always just been me on my own! I’m not ready to take on the role of boyfriend, or anything. I want Gerard, I really do, but I don’t know how to be myself without scaring him away.”

“You have to be yourself though, Frank. If you scare him away when you’re being yourself then he wasn’t right for you anyhow. If he can’t accept you for who you are, then it’s right of him to walk away,” Brendon says.

“You say that, but I like him. I like him so much and I don’t know why. I don’t eant him to run away!”

“We’ve all been there, Frank. Everyone is afraid of falling in love the first time, but wouldn’t it be fantastic if you gave it a try, Frank?”

“What if I mess it up?” Frank asks.

“But what if you don’t?”

“You’re avoiding my question, Brendon! What if I mess it up?”

“You’re avoiding mine too. What if you _don’t_?”

“I guess I’d be happier in the long run?” Frank asks, “But if I’m wrong, about Gerard, if _you’re_ wrong about Gerard-”

“Then you’ll be put off for a little while, and it’s understandable. Heartbreak is hard, but it isn’t the end of the world. You can make it through a heartbreak, and you’re one of the strongest people I know, so I know that of all people, you can. You just have to put yourself out there to try.”

“But I’m not good for Gerard. Why would he ever want me?”

“Well, Frank,” Brendon says, “to be perfectly honest, I don’t know why anyone would ever want you, but Gerard does. I think you’re kind of gross and hideous, but Gerard sees something in you. You see something in him too, so why don’t you just give it a shot? One more date, and tell me you don’t feel good about yourself while you’re on it. If you honestly feel like it’s too much pressure and it’s not worth it, then I’ll leave it alone. I won’t try to set you up again, but I think you have what it takes to make it work. I think you don’t know you do, but I think you can do it.”

“Why do you have so much faith in me?” 

“Because I see more of you than anyone else does. You’re not the person a lot of people think you are, you’ve got a lot of heart to give, but you need to realize that for yourself before you’ll ever be able to give it.”

“And you think Gerard is right for that?”

Brendon shrugs, “I think you’ll only find out if you give it a shot.”

“But what if I don’t have another shot? What if I blew it last night?” Frank asks.

“If Gerard is as interested in you as I think he is, then he’ll understand what happened. You weren’t running away from Gerard, you were running away from your feelings for him.”

“I want, with him, what I’ve never wanted with anyone. I want him to like me back, but I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t,” Frank says in a quiet voice.

“You’ll get up and keep going. Life goes on, Frank, and if you don’t realize that, than you deserve to be left behind anyway,” Brendon says, “You just have to wing it and let your life go where it goes. Make it up as you go, and hope you come out on the right end of the maze.”

Frank shakes his head and questions, “And if I go the wrong way?”

“Well, that’s a part of the fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to refrain myself from so many references in this chapter that no one would understand. Like none of you know the Plain White T's song "Make It Up As You Go," but I was so close to referencing it. You can really tell in my Authors Notes how much I love the PWT's can't you?


	16. The Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank's dumb.

Two days after Brendon and Frank had a heart to heart in a closet, and Frank’s finally made up his mind about Gerard. It wasn’t an easy conclusion to come to, but it was the only real one he could make given the circumstances. Brendon has never been the most enthusiastic on how Frank chooses to live his life, and he’s positive that this situation will be no different from days past. Brendon won’t like it at all.

“I can’t do it, Brendon,” Frank says.

“What?”

“I just can’t do it. I can’t afford to lose my way of living.”

Brendon sighs long and hard, “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Thanks for accepting my decision,” Frank says sarcastically.

“I don’t agree with you. That’s all I have to say. I think you’re painfully wrong about this one, and I’m not going to just sit back quietly and keep my opinions to myself. I _know_ you’re wrong, so I’m going to voice my discontent,” Brendon replies.

“But you have to let me do what I want. You’re not my boss,” Frank says.

“No you’re right, I’m not your boss, but that doesn’t mean I think you’re any less wrong about this one. In ten years you’ll really come to regret this,” Brendon says. “It’s just that...”

“What?” Frank asks, when Brendon doesn’t finish his words.

“Is this because of the bet? Are you actually angry with _me_? Are you doing this to get out of the bet?”

“Of course not!” Frank says, because it honestly isn’t about the bet. He’d nearly forgotten the damn thing.

“Are you sure? Because if you like Gerard, but want to call off the bet, that’s fine. I’ll think you’re a weakling for the rest of your life, but it’s fine if you want to date him and not give me that guitar back,” Brendon says.

“It’s not about a damn guitar, Brendon. This is about me, and I just can’t do this with Gerard right now.”

“Right now?”

“Maybe I’ll change my mind in the next few years. It won’t be any time soon, I can guarantee you that, I think I’m going to let Gerard go, but maybe it’ll change.”

Brendon makes an either angry or annoyed expression, “You’re wrong. I don’t know what else to tell you. I cannot believe you are just going to dump Gerard like that though. We both know you like him. Gerard even knows you like him.”

“What do you want me to do, Brendon? I’m not ready! I’m not. I can’t do this, and I’m not prepared for how it might change my life. I don’t care if it’s a good change or a bad one or a neutral change, I just cannot do it right now.”

“I’ll respect your decision,” Brendon says, though he doesn’t look to really believe himself when he says that, “but I don’t agree with it. Honestly I’m just a little disappointed in you.”

“Disappointed? What? Why?”

“Because of the way you’re acting like a child, Frank,” Brendon says.

“I’m not a child. I’m an adult making a tough decision that could decide my immediate or indefinite future. That is a huge life decision, Brendon. You and I agree on a lot of things, but this isn’t one of those things.”

“I just hope you realize that you’re the one who has to break this news to Gerard,” Brendon says.

“Yeah, I get that,” Frank says, “What do I say?”

“That’s your responsibility!” Brendon says loudly, and he stands up from his seat in the living room to make for the front door.

“What so you’re just going to leave me because you don’t think I’m doing what’s right?” Frank asks.

“I do not want to be around you right now. I think you’re doing the wrong thing, personally, but it’s your brain, and I’ve never understood your brain anyway,” Brendon says. “And you have to call Gerard. Make it sooner rather than later. I’d hate for you to keep him hanging. The last thing he needs is another hook to be caught on.”

“You’re accusing me of being a bitch?”

“Well a jerk at the very least,” Brendon says.

“Fine, then I invite you to get the fuck out of my house,” Frank replies.

“Oh I intend to,” Brendon replies, and a few seconds later the door is slamming closed behind Brendon. Frank peers around the corner to see the closed door, and then makes his way over to it and locks it twice so that Brendon can’t get back in, even with a key. 

Frank is pretty much lost in his own head. He’s pretty confident in his decision, but it still makes him kind of sad. He doesn’t know why he’s afraid, or of what, but he knows that he is, and that’s not something he can just wish away. He does like Gerard though. A lot. That’s one of the things he’s pretty sure is scaring him though. He’s never _liked_ someone like that. Nothing at all makes sense to Frank right now. The last thing he wants is to force a guy as nice as Gerard to have to put up with him and his indecisiveness.

Frank makes his way back over to the living room, and collapses onto his couch with his phone in one hand. He leans back against the arm rest, trying to find an angle that will make all of his problems go away. Of course, the way he sits on a sofa is going to do nothing to make anything stop being so confusing.

Everything seems so uncertain for him right now and he wishes he could just wish away meeting Gerard. He wishes Brendon had never made them go on a date. He also wishes that he’d never bumped into the guy at the bar, but stupid Brendon made the two of them resolve the problems they had with each other. Now all he really wants is for there to be a way to be friends with Gerard without putting a label on it.

Frank does want to hang out with Gerard. He wants to kiss the guy, and do coupley things with him, but the problem is in that label. Frank doesn’t want to be a boyfriend, he doesn’t want to have a boyfriend, and he doesn’t want to be in a couple. He just wants a romantic friend, sort of. He’s so caught up in the label that he’s letting that fear cloud his judgment, but he doesn’t realize that.

As stupid as it sounds, Frank does actually call Gerard a few minutes later. He has to close his eyes to try to keep himself from cringing at his own words.

“H-hey Gerard,” Frank says.

“Can we cut to the chase, Frank? Good news or bad news?” Gerard says bluntly.

“Bad.”

Gerard sighs, and Frank can hear him breathing out loudly on the other end, “right, fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank says.

“Save it, Frank. I’m the one who should be sorry. Thinking you could change, how stupid can I be?” Gerard says, angrily, “I can’t believe I actually thought there was a part of you that was capable of human emotions.”

“I really am sorry though! I don’t want you to have to deal with me, when it’s clear that I can’t do this. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m afraid. Okay? I’m afraid! That’s it, and I’m just not willing to do this.”

Gerard doesn’t say anything, “You’re a robot, Frank. I thought that maybe there was some part of you that could behave like a real person, but I was wrong. You’re just a robot.”

“I’m really not. It’s because of the fact that I’m _not_ a robot that I have to tell you this. I don’t want to make you mad, but I’m also not going to lie to you or myself.”

“I’d rather you own up to it now, then lie to me in the future, I guess,” Gerard says, “have fun with your whatever.”

Frank is pretty sure that there’s nothing he can say to make anything any better. Gerard is pissed, and Frank honestly doesn’t blame the guy. He has the right to be pissed off, even if Frank doesn’t necessarily understand why. He understands the notion of why Gerard is upset, it’s the practice of it that mixes him up a bit.

“Try to understand that I’m trying to spare you from putting up with me. If you don’t like the way I’m acting about this, then you should know this is how I act about everything, so you wouldn’t like me anyway,” Frank says.

“Fine. If that’s your choice. I’m not going to fight you on it. Just know that I really was willing to try,” Gerard says.

“I hope you find it in you to forgive me someday. I feel awful, because I do like you, Gerard. I do, and that’s why we can’t do this.”

“Whatever, Frank,” Gerard says, “I’d say see you later, but I take it that’s not what either of us wants, so I won’t say that.”

“Alright,” Frank replies.

“Alright,” Gerard echoes.

“Goodbye?”

“Hopefully,” Gerard says, and hangs up. Frank just collapses even further into his couch, feeling like a total prick.


	17. Step One of Brendon’s Oh-So-Genius Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are worse for Frank than he let on.

Frank has seen neither Gerard nor Brendon in over a week. It’s a new record, actually. Ever since he met Brendon, he’s seen him pretty regularly. They’ve gotten into fights before, certainly, but never like this. Frank has never felt so utterly terrified of anything in his entire life, and no one seems to get that.

He is an idiot, and he knows that. It’s not a deep down sort of thing, he knows it really well, but that doesn’t change the facts. Frank has never done anything like this before, and it’s scary. It’s a big life choice, and everyone is pressuring him into making it, but he doesn’t know what choice to make. He has no fucking idea, he just knows it scares him.

Gerard is right for calling Frank out on his bullshit, but he just doesn’t know what to do. It’s strange how this all started with his neighbors, and it’s sent him into a lifestyle frenzy. Yes, Frank knows one-night stands aren’t exactly ideal, but that’s what he knows. Frank knows that, it’s familiar. It’s the safe option, taking no risks. Relationships are different, the risk is far more substantial and it’s so much bigger. If Frank messes it up, he’ll get hurt. 

That’s what’s always bothered Frank about love. It’s giving someone else the power to hurt you. He already did it though. He opened up to Gerard, showed him who he was, and gave Gerard the power to hurt him. If he stays with Gerard it’ll get worse. He’ll give Gerard more power. He’ll feed Gerard like a furnace with ammo that he can use to hurt Frank.

It’s not that Frank thinks Gerard would intentionally hurt him, though he hasn’t ruled it out completely, he just doesn’t want to give the guy the opportunity. He already did somewhat and he’s now trying to pull himself away from the hurt he feels from abandoning Gerard, but it’s too late. The damage has been done, so what happens if he stays with Gerard and it gets worse.

Frank doesn’t want to be hurt. He’s seen what it does, watched his parents go through it, and he couldn’t let that happen to him. Frank doesn’t want to fall in love only to have it ripped out from under him like a carpet. He wants to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground, where no one has the power to trip him up. Yet there Gerard is, and he went and put his foot out in front of Frank’s path, so he’s already put a fumble in the steps. What if he gives Gerard more though?

The possibility that his life will get better is high, in fact that’s the most likely outcome, but what if Gerard breaks his heart? What if he falls out of love? What if Gerard falls off a cliff? What if Frank falls off a cliff trying to save Gerard from falling off a cliff? There’s a good chance that Frank will be happy, but the margin of error is not small. 

Frank’s been moping around his house, hardly leaving at all except to walk his dogs or get the mail. He had a few weeks of vacation time from work that he’d neglected to use up until now, so he takes them during this time.

Why is he so torn up about something that wasn’t really anything at all? Frank’s fallen into a self-induced depression, that he’s too stupid to realize that he can fix without much effort. It’s Frank’s own fault that he’s in such a rough place, but not for the reasons he thinks. It’s Frank’s fault that he isn’t seeing Gerard. He thinks that he gave too much of himself to Gerard and it’s Gerard that’s hurting him, but really, it’s Frank’s fault. Frank was the one who pushed Gerard away, not the other way around. Gerard isn’t the one keeping Gerard away, Frank is. Why he doesn’t realize that is a question without an answer.

Someone knocks on the door, and Frank groans, expecting the Sinclair’s. He walks to the door, from his spot in the living room watching some thirty hour marathon of old game shows. He’s still in his pajamas as he has been all day every day since the phone call with Gerard. He hasn’t shaved either so he’s starting to be kind of hairy in that awkward sort of way.

When Frank answers the door though it’s not the Sinclair’s, but a guy with a big head, in a completely different way.

“What are you doing here, Brendon?” Frank asks miserably.

“Oh god, you look _horrendous_ ,” Brendon says.

“Thank you for your flattery,” Frank says, walking away from the door lazily. He doesn’t bother closing it, so it’s a silent invitation for Brendon to come inside.

“Dude, have you left the house at all?” 

“Not really,” Frank replies.

“Over Gerard?”

“No, over the muffins I burned last week,” Frank says sarcastically. He hears the door close, but doesn’t bother turning to see where Brendon is before he collapses back onto his couch. He takes up his sloth-like position, and hears Brendon walking around.

“Have you showered?”

“Once or twice,” Frank says.

“Yeah, I can smell you,” Brendon says, returning to the living room and then he sprays Frank with some Windex that he’d found in the hall closet.

“What’d you do that for?” 

“I’d rather you smelled like ammonia than the bottom of a shoe,” Brendon says.

“Thanks for the flattery, what do you want?”

“I’m worried about you,” Brendon says, setting the Windex down. He walks around the couch that’s being inhabited by Frank and sits on the edge of the coffee table to look at his friend.

“No need to worry, I’m completely fine.”

“I can see that,” Brendon says looking at the many bags of convenience store chips, which Frank has thrown about everywhere. “You know something is wrong when a neat freak doesn’t clean up after himself.”

“Are you going to try to convince me that I’m being over dramatic? I’m fucking miserable, Brendon, and I hate it.”

“Well who do you have to blame for that one?”

“You,” Frank says.

“Me?”

“Who’s the one who made me go out with Gerard in the first place?” 

“Who was the one who ditched him at a fancy restaurant, and then broke up with him over the phone?”

Frank groans, “We weren’t actually dating. It wasn’t really a date.”

“Gerard told me it was the best date he’d ever been on up until the part at the end.”

“You’re making that up,” Frank says.

“I’m really not. Frank, you’re a mess. You smell disgusting, you’re not picking up after yourself, you look like a teenager with a greasy peach fuzz Hitler stache, and you’re acting like a child. Either grow up and move on from Gerard, or kiss his fucking ass and beg for forgiveness.”

“You were the one who told me it was okay to feel awful after heartbreak,” Frank points out.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Brendon frowns, “Well as you said, you two never really dated, so it doesn’t count as heartbreak.”

“Then why does it feel like someone put a belt around my heart and then stomped on it?” Frank asks.

“Because your body is trying to tell you to get up and get with Gerard.”

Frank makes a whimpering sound, “but I don’t want him to hurt me, Brendon. I don’t want him to hurt me even more than he has now, because I don’t know how to handle it if he treats me like the piece of shit I am.”

Brendon is surprised to see Frank actually crying. He feels like he’s seeing a completely new part of Frank. It feels like he’s talking to a totally different person than his best friend.

“Is _that_ what you’re worried about?”

“Yes!” Frank says exasperatedly, “what if I lose him, after giving myself away to him? Look at me right now, Brendon. It’ll be a hundred times worse if he actually likes me back, I just can’t do it!”

“You’re not supposed to give yourself away to him, you’re supposed to let him see you for who you really are, and fall in love with that part of you,” Brendon says.

“I’m an all-in or an all-out kind of person, Brendon, you know that. I’m either going to give it my all, or I’ve got to run away altogether.”

“That’s no way to think of it,” Brendon says, “take me for example, Frank. Romantically, I mean nothing to you, but you gave me the power to hurt you a long time ago.”

“That’s different though! You’re my best friend,” Frank protests.

“And that’s what you really want in a relationship. You want to find a best friend, and best friends will try never to hurt you,” Brendon says.

“But it gives someone the power to hurt you regardless of whether they decide to use that power or not,” Frank says.

“Oh god, you are so hopeless.”

“Thanks.”

“C’mon, Frank. Get up, get off your ass,” Brendon says, pulling on Frank’s arm to try to get him to stand up.

“No! Why?”

“Because you’re going to go take a shower, and then I’m going to take you out, and you’re going to stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“But I don’t want to,” Frank complains.

“I’m not giving you a choice here,” Brendon warns, finally getting Frank to his feet, “go shower, shave, get dressed, and for the love of god, brush your teeth. Your breath smells like something died in there.”

“Just let me be,” Frank mopes.

“Nope. Just go fucking make yourself presentable,” Brendon says.

“Presentable to who?”

“It’s whom, you twat. Just do what I told you.”

Brendon eventually has to physically push Frank over to the stairs and it’s not an easy task. For one thing, Frank is a dead weight, and for another thing he’s a dead weight that smells like a homeless man.

“Why can’t I just go back to bed and eat a pint of ice cream?” 

“Because we’re not watching Dirty Dancing nor are you menstruating,” Brendon says.

“Fine!” Frank says angrily, “I’ll shower, but I’m not putting on clean socks.”

“Why not?”

“Out of pure defiance, I will reuse a pair of socks. Just because I don’t want you to have your way entirely,” he says.

“Fine with me, just get to it,” Brendon hollers at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey would you go read my new fic [Stop Playing Around](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2018559/chapters/4377984)? I'd much appreciate it.


	18. Step Two of Brendon’s Oh-So-Genius Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few things to say concerning a vibrant redhead.

“No!” I don’t want to go anywhere! I want to stay at home and watch Deal or no Deal reruns,” Frank mopes as Brendon pushes him out the front door.

“Can you even hear yourself right now?” Brendon asks, “Howie Mandel can wait. His reflective bald head will be there when you get back. Right now you’re going to socialize!”

“I don’t wanna!” Frank complains.

“You honestly sound like a six year old arguing nap time, Frank.”

“Well I’d rather have nap time than go out anywhere! I don’t like people. I like my TV remote, and my giant bag of gold fish!”

“Frank,” Brendon says warningly, “either you rejoin the world, or I invite your neighbors over for tea.”

“You fight dirty.”

“I don’t like seeing you turn into a potato,” Brendon says.

“Not a potato. More like a barnacle,” Frank says.

“I don’t care what kind of vegetation you are, I’m not going to let you sit on your ass all day moping over Gerard.”

“I bet he’s already back with his ex. He’s with his ex, I just know it. I ruined it. I absolutely ruined it all!”

“You will have if you keep up like this. Stand up straight, Frank, and put a smile on your face.”

“I’m going to do no such thing,” Frank says.

“Than at least stop frowning like you’re at a funeral,” Brendon says.

“What do I get in return?”

“I _won’t_ smack you across the face like I sorely want to.”

“No deal,” Frank says.

“You really have seen too many game shows haven’t you?”

“Just leave me be!” Frank groans.

“No! You’re going to go out, and you are going to have a good time or I will cut you,” Brendon says.

“Ow.”

“Exactly,” he replies. Brendon manages to coax Frank into going to their bar, which was really the goal the whole time anyway. Get Frank to the bar, and things will be taken care of. Hopefully.

Brendon discreetly sends a text while he’s getting himself and Frank drinks, and then waits. Is it the best plan ever? No. But it just might work.

“Why am I here again?” Frank asks with his head buried in his arms. Brendon doesn’t even know how on earth Frank knew he’d sat down because his head is completely enclosed, but he doesn’t care enough to ask. 

“You are such a fucking crybaby, Frank. Cheer up, you’ll live. You’re a dumbass, but you’re not going to fucking die because of this,” Brendon says.

“How do you know?”

“I know that you’re quite the hypochondriac, and for good reason to, because you’re never not sick, but seriously dude. People only died of heartbreak and shock in Shakespeare.”

“God, Lady Montague was a fucking pansy. Who the fuck dies of a broken fucking heart? Stupid Shakespeare and his intolerably misguided understanding of the human circulatory system,” Frank groans. Apparently when Frank’s upset he overanalyzes Shakespearean plays. Forget about the era in which the plays were actually written where no one knew anything about the human body. Frank’s an eternal cynic.

Brendon says in dialogue that is not at all stale and rehearsed, not at all, “oh look, it’s my friend Mikey.”

“Ugh, I don’t like people. I like my pillow and fictional talking sponges,” Frank says, still not looking anywhere with his head in his arms. Mikey walks over to Brendon giving Frank a onceover and he’s not impressed. Maybe it’s because Frank is making noises like he’s about to throw up or the fact that he’s literally whining like a little toddler, but Frank just isn’t all that striking at the moment.

“Spongebob?”

“No the other one,” Frank replies.

“What other one?”

“That’s the fucking point, dipshit,” Frank retorts.

“Well he seems like a real charmer,” Mikey says making a face as he looks at the mess that has also on occasion been referred to as ‘Frank.’

Brendon shrugs, and mouths, ‘what the fuck do you want from me?’

“I wanna go home,” Frank groans.

‘Not that,’ Mikey mouths back.

“Frank, we have company,” Brendon says.

“Make it go away,” Frank says, “I want to be by myself.”

“He’s a train wreck,” Mikey says outwardly.

“I’m not deaf!” Frank says pulling his head up. He gives the new person a scowl and then rests his head in his hands, but at least he keeps it up this time.

“That did the trick,” Brendon says.

“Do you think I’m a dog?” Frank asks, “Because I will throw your shoe in a toilet if you cross me.”

“Delightful,” Mikey says.

“You know what, who the fuck are you?” Frank asks.

“He’s a friend of mine, who’s only stating the obvious,” Brendon says with a shrug.

“I don’t like him,” Frank says pouting. He honestly looks like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum. Brendon is tempted to go tell him to sit in the corner for a time out.

“You don’t like anybody,” Brendon says.

“I like most people,” Frank says, “but he looks like he just ate a lemon.”

Mikey does actually look a bit like he’s just eaten something sour. That’s his usual expression though, so he’s not surprised by the remark.

“Why is he here?” Frank complains extremely immaturely.

“I’m meeting my brother here, and we just totally bumped into each other,” Mikey says, and it’s so fake it kind of hurts Brendon’s ears. Frank of course, doesn’t notice because he’s too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“Brendon!” Frank groans, “Will you take me back home. I wanna go back!”

“Would you stop whining?” Brendon asks.

“No, because I hate you,” Frank pouts.

“I’m in desperate need of more malleable friends,” Brendon says, looking up at the ceiling, like he can’t believe he got here.

“Hey look, my brother is here,” Mikey says turning.

Frank groans and glances at the door, but then he sees a certain redheaded man, and his heart stutters a bit. It’s like someone stuck a pole down his back, because Frank shoots up in a flash. His posture is so straight that he’s almost bending backward.

He wants to hit himself now though. Brendon met Gerard through a friend of a friend of his brother. Mikey would be that brother, and Frank is incredibly gullible.

Gerard steps over to where his brother is, but then he catches sight of Frank, and he gets all nervous, and chalky. He tries to play it off as resentment, so he loosens his stance and looks at Frank contemptuously.

“Gerard!” Frank squeals fearfully.

“Frank,” he replies, in the exact opposite tone. He does not look happy to see Frank. He looks so unamused that Mikey is preparing for Gerard to stab him. It’s not even an unlikely eventuality at this point.

“Ge-” Frank stops, “hi.”

“Why don’t you sit with us?” Brendon asks, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“I was supposed to meet my brother here. _Just_ him.”

“I’m fine here,” Mikey says.

“Of course you are,” Gerard says with narrowed eyes. Frank is looking at Gerard as if mesmerized. He can’t believe how gorgeous he is, especially after Frank gave him up. Why is it that all the best things are things you can’t have? Or even more particular, why is it that all the things you own are inadequate, but as soon as you no longer have them their priceless?

Gerard is nothing short of flawless, and Frank can’t help but notice it now that he’s ruined everything. 

There is now absolutely no chance that it was a coincidence that Brendon and Mikey left the only empty seat, the one next to Frank. No chance that was an accident at all.

Frank feels Brendon kick him from under the table, or at least he thinks it’s Brendon. He sends the man a venomous stare, and Brendon’s cheeky grin confirms that it was, in fact, him.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” Brendon says, and Frank just squints at him. Brendon hasn’t even opened his first one, so no, he does not need another.

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” Mikey says.

“Why does he need help?” Gerard asks.

“I am very indecisive,” Brendon says, “I probably wouldn’t be able to make a choice by myself.”

“Well then _I’ll_ come,” Frank says, turning to get up, and hopefully make a quick escape.

“No, Frank,” Brendon says hurriedly, “Don’t you remember your ankle injury?”

“What ankle inj-” before he can finish his sentence Brendon gives him an extremely painful kick to the shin, “Fuuu- ow!”

“ _That_ ankle injury,” Brendon says.

“You fucking cock-sucking motherfucker!” Frank shouts, attracting the attention of a few people nearby, “we don’t kick our friends in the shins, you fucking asshole!”

“I did no such thing,” Brendon says, pretending to be offended, and then he runs away. Quite literally, he just runs away in another direction, and Mikey is not long to follow.

“They couldn’t have been more obvious,” Gerard says. “They should have just made a giant cardboard sign with an arrow on it.”

“Yeah, but I wish their plan could have excluded the part where he kicked me,” Frank mopes.

“Oh c’mon, the guy can’t have that hard a kick,” Gerard says.

“Well how about you call him over here and ask him to kick you!” Frank says, angrily. “It won’t be too hard, you know they’re probably watching us from behind a pillar or something with binoculars and popcorn.”

Gerard grins, “you’re right. They’re kind of perverse. Especially Brendon.”

“You’re brother wasn’t a bed of roses! He called me a train wreck!”

“Well you are a bit of a train wreck,” Gerard sighs.

“Well yeah, but you don’t say that to a stranger.”

Gerard nods but says nothing. When he doesn’t say anything though it makes it hard for Frank to say anything. He wants to say so many hundreds of things to Gerard, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to.

“They’re not coming back are they?” Frank asks.

“No probably not,” Gerard replies.

“We have the worst friends in the whole fucking world,” Frank says, sitting back in his seat.

“How’ve you, uh, been?” Gerard asks.

“Oh, I’ve been absolutely dandy,” Frank replies.

“So, I’m going to sound stupid, because I’m the one who got angry at you when you called, but I’ve felt like shit the last week, and it’s kind of your fault,” Gerard says.

“What! That’s a little rude, don’t you think?” Frank asks.

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, who should be mad at you and want you to accidentally fall into a hole or something, but I don’t because I miss you, and I shouldn’t because, really, you’re kind of a dick, but I don’t know, I kind of like it,” Gerard says, all in one breath.

“Yeah, you really should hate me,” Frank says, “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“But I don’t,” Gerard sighs.

“I’m stupid,” Frank admits.

“No one ever accused you of not being stupid,” Gerard says.

“No, I am. I have, what might as well be my first crush ever and it’s on this stupidly attractive guy with this vibrant red hair, and he’s so perfect. Like, literally anyone could see that, and he’s so funny, and fantastic. He’s really sweet, but he’s not the kind of sweet that disarms you with potency. Honestly, he’s way too perfect to be human, and any human in the world would call me a fucking moron for doing what I did to him, because I am, really. I pushed him away when I should have grabbed him and never let him go. I like him so much, but I’m not with him.”

Gerard frowns, “that sounds like a problem. Why aren’t you with him if you like him so much?”

“Because I’m a little girl who doesn’t want to be hurt. I don’t want to be hurt, I hate being hurt. I’ve seen what it does to people and it fucking terrifies me. It’s so dumb though, because this guy, who I like, he actually likes me back, _me_ of all people. Who would be dumb enough to like me?”

“You’re right. You’d have to be pretty damn stupid to like you,” Gerard agrees.

“Right? So it’s kind of unbelievable that this guy likes me back, and I like him. That’s the stupidest part about it! I like him, he likes me, anyone with a brain would say, that yeah, we should be together,” Frank states.

“So what’s stopping you?”

“I’ve never actually believed in love. I’ve seen it but I’ve written it off, and all my life I got used to caring about no one but myself. I’ve spent so many years just as a ‘me’, and I never fathomed I could be a part of a ‘we’. So imagine my surprise when this siren-headed dork walks into my life, and for the first time in my life I actually care about someone else’s feelings. It makes what I did even dumber, because I pushed him away, knowing full-well that I’d be hurting _him_. The guy whose feelings I care so much about him, and I just went and hurt him like that anyway!”

“And how have you felt about all this?” Gerard asks.

“If there’s a stage past miserable, I am below that. If a trench at the bottom of the ocean is the lowest thing in the world, I am below that. I’m, uh... what’s that big trench thing in the ocean called?”

“Marianas Trench,” Gerard says.

“No that’s a band.”

“Which is named after a trench,” Gerard says giggling.

“Oh. Okay, well I’m that, and I am so fucking miserable. I miss the guy so much that I haven’t left my house in a week, and I’ve eaten staggering amount of fruit roll-ups. I haven’t even had the courage to get out of bed until my friend literally had to drag me out of it, and now I’m here.”

“What’s your conclusion then? What have you taken from this experience?”

“Well for one thing, not to watch too many episodes of Lets Make A Deal at a time because you end up being way too depressed about all the people who picked curtain three when they should’ve just taken the money,” Frank says.

“Anything else?” Gerard says smiling at how stupid and adorable Frank is.

“I just... I don’t care, I guess. I’m scared that he’s going to hurt me, so I’m preventing myself from being hurt by him, but in doing so, I’m hurting myself a million times more than I would if I just sucked it up and said that I don’t care. So I’m saying that I don’t care. I don’t care if he’s going to hurt me, because I want to put myself into a new situation where I have the chance of being hurt,” Frank says.

“That’s a good progression in character,” Gerard says.

“So do you think that this guy would ever go for me? After all the shit I’ve put him through? Even if I promised that I really, truly, honestly, want to be with him so much?”

“I think it’s possible,” Gerard says, “I’d say it’s really likely. Really really likely. I’m pretty sure, whoever this guy is, with his stunning sounding hair, is probably really into you.”

“Even though I’m afraid of being hurt by him?” Frank asks.

Gerard drops the act to look bluntly at Frank, “You seem to think I’m intent on hurting you.”

“Well no. I’m afraid that it’s not going to work out. You know, it’s like you have so many breakups and all you need is _one_ person not to breakup with. Though everyone always says that it’s the ride that’s important, not the destination.”

“I can’t guarantee you that it’s going to work,” Gerard says.

“But it’s worth it to see if it will,” Frank says, “and I just don’t care.”

Across the bar, behind a pillar, Mikey and Brendon sit, trying to hide from sight.

“Do you think it’ll work?” Brendon asks.

Mikey shrugs. He’s not the most talkative person in the world. He peaks behind the pillar for a moment to check their progress.

“Oh yeah, I think it’ll work,” Mikey replies, turning back to look at Brendon.

“How can you be so sure?” Brendon asks. Mikey just gives him a look, that there is no way to describe. It doesn’t need to be described even.

Brendon peeks around the pillar himself, and yeah, Mikey was right. The two of them are making out. Not even trying to hide it. That was easier than Brendon had anticipated. It says something about how much they totally wanted each other though.

“I would make so much more money than eHarmony,” Brendon says, proudly.

It occurs to Frank that Brendon and Mikey have not come back. He doesn’t exactly expect them to, but he totally knows what’s going on through their heads right now.

“They’re getting a field day out of this,” Frank whispers.

“Fuck them, just don’t stop kissing me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's just one chapter left.


	19. Change Will Come, Yes Change Will Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da!

Frank’s first thought when he wakes up is, “oh shit.”

There’s a space next to him, which really should have a Gerard in it, but there is no such Gerard. There’s a wrinkle of sheets, and a pillow that smells an awful lot like his shampoo. Frank’s heart pretty much falls out of his chest, because he jumps to the worst conclusion of all quite quickly.

He left, he got freaked out. They’re moving too fast. Frank shouldn’t have asked him to stay over, he messed up! Oh god, what if he was bad? What if Gerard had second thoughts?

If the proper word is finally, then Frank finally managed to get Gerard to sleep with him, though he doesn’t like the way that sounds. He wasn’t really trying, is the thing. He didn’t really care about sleeping with Gerard, which is blasphemy when it comes to Frank, but the truth is that he didn’t. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun, but really, it’s not the most important thing he and Gerard have done together.

Frank’s practically hyperventilating, and his face is heating up when he tries to calm himself down. The way the bed spread is thrown off makes it look like Gerard dragged himself out of bed, and tried not to wake up Frank. He reaches his hand out, and is relieved to find that the blankets are still warm. That means that at least he didn’t leave in the middle of the night. Maybe he went to the bathroom.

He calms his breath, and then pulls himself out of bed. Frank’s feet protest to the cold hardwood floor, but he stands up anyway. He looks down, at least he has underwear, but he grabs a shirt, making sure that it doesn’t smell too bad, and pulls it over his head.

Frank peers around the room, but no one is there. It’s only when he opens the bedroom door that he hears talking. Frank frowns, wondering what’s going on, and perks his ears up to figure it out. He’s only just woken up so his brain is a little slow still. It’s coming from downstairs. To his relief, one of the voices is Gerard’s. So maybe Frank is a little paranoid. 

There’s a total of three voices and that’s what keys Frank in. The Sinclair’s. They’re at the door. He almost cries at the fact that Gerard is actually answering the door. He’d said, the first time they met, that he would do no such thing, but he is. Gerard is at the door, with the Sinclair’s.

This all started so that Frank could find someone who’d do that. Brendon found him a bunch of boyfriend applicants for this exact reason. It’s hard to believe that it started with a bet. A bet! How menial that sounds now, when Frank has the best prize in the world. Brendon may have won, true, but Frank won what really matters.

Frank creeps down the stairs and he can hear the conversation more clearly.

The door opens into the house, which means that it’s hiding most of Gerard from sight, when Frank finally steps onto the landing. He inches over, and hears Mrs. Sinclair trying to give Gerard a lecture about the benefits of accepting Jesus into his life. He doesn’t seem overly fond of it, by the tisking sounds he makes.

Frank walks up behind him, and wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist. He’d thrown on his shirt and pants which makes him much more dressed then Frank, at the moment.

“Oh shit, I tried not to wake you up,” Gerard says, forgetting about the scandalized Sinclair’s in front of him. Frank puts his chin on Gerard’s shoulder, and winks at his neighbors. Part of him is really happy to get to show off his phenomenally gorgeous boyfriend, but most of him is just glad that he’s there at all.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Sinclair says.

“You’re excused,” Frank says, making Gerard snort.

“We were trying to have a conversation,” Mrs. Sinclair says.

“I see that. So you met Gerard though, what’ya think?” Frank asks, rhetorically.

Mr. Sinclair makes a noise and says, “uhhh.”

“Yeah I think he’s pretty cute too,” Frank says, and Gerard bites his lip looking at the way Frank is draped around him.

“But I didn’t-” they still taking turns speaking, and it’s really creepy.

“I know, but I know you were thinking it,” Frank says, and Gerard grins. Both of the Sinclair’s are looking at Gerard’s hair specifically, and it’s kind of funny to see their response to nothing more than his head.

“Is that all you wanted?” Gerard asks, “We kind of wanted to go back to bed. Right?”

“ _Definitely_.”

If Brendon answering the door shirtless had scared them, than Gerard scares them even more. Brendon was a ploy obviously, though they don’t know that, but Gerard is about a million times more suggestive, even when fully clothed.

“W-we’ll be leaving.”

“Good,” Frank says before kissing Gerard over his shoulder. The angle is awkward, but he doesn’t really care, because Gerard is worth it.

Maybe Frank only kisses Gerard to piss off the Sinclair’s, but he highly doubts it. He’s really not in control of himself sometimes, because his mind has a strange reaction to being near Gerard.

He kicks the door closed, not taking his lips off of Gerard’s.

“They’re fucking assholes,” Gerard says a moment after the door closes. He turns around, grabbing both of Frank’s hands in his own. Frank can’t help but blush at the way that Gerard looks at him.

“I know they are,” Frank replies, “You scared me when I woke up and there was the distinct absence of an attractive redhead.”

“I’m sorry,” Gerard frowns, “but the doorbell had been ringing for like twenty minutes, and you were way too cute to wake up.”

“They hate you, you know,” Frank says.

“What?” Gerard says mockingly, “are you saying your homophobic neighbors don’t like _me_ , your gay boyfriend?”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying.”

“What a strange incident. That’s like saying a fox dislikes a chicken or something. It’s just so strange.”

“Foxes really like chicken actually, they just don’t like _live_ chickens.”

“Don’t you dare correct my animal similes,” Gerard says.

“You’re such a dork, Gerard,” Frank rolls his eyes, “C’mon.”

He grabs Gerard and drags him back up the stairs, two at a time. Gerard stumbles a few times, because Frank is actually quite fast for a guy with such short legs.

He only stops at the foot of the bed where he wraps his arms around Gerard’s neck, and pulls him down. Gerard could be with Frank for a million years and never get used to how good a kisser the guy is. 

Three months he’s been with Frank now. Three months since Brendon and Mikey held that intervention. Four months since they met, and Gerard had thought Frank was the most arrogant person he’d ever met. It’s not exactly untrue, but he has more dimensions than just that.

Frank is pretty impressed with himself. Three months is about two months and 29 days more than his longest relationship. He’d thought it likely that he would have another freak out, but so far it’s been smooth sailing. That’s not to say that it always will, because Frank is still afraid of serious commitment, but things change. Really, the goal is in finding the right person, and then your outlook changes. Frank’s outlook is changing everyday with Gerard.

That’s one of the best things about him. He really likes the guy. Really really really really _really_ likes the guy. So much so that ‘like’ isn’t even the right term.

“I love you, you know,” Frank says, against Gerard’s lips.

Gerard gets a look of surprise on his face and stares at Frank, “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to anyone isn’t it?”

“Other than the hamster I had in fourth grade, yes,” he replies, and he doesn’t look nervous, he just looks really sure and proud of himself.

“Well I’m glad to have the same honor bestowed upon me as the one on your fucking hamster,” Gerard says, “and I love you too.”

“Really?” Frank giggles.

“No, I’m lying,” Gerard replies sarcastically. Frank usually understands sarcasm more than he does seriousness.

Frank chuckles, and then pulls his neck down again, and kisses Gerard like he’s afraid to lose him. It’s like Frank is intentionally trying to suffocate them both, but Gerard doesn’t really mind.

Gerard opens his eyes and something in the corner of the room catches his eye. Actually it’s the _lack_ of something in the corner of the room is what catches his eye.

“Uh, Frank? How come you have a guitar stand without a guitar?” Gerard asks.

Frank turns his head and looks at it. Seeing the stand makes him grin toothily.

“No reason,” Frank says, “I’m just a man who is true to his word.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was only four chapters more than I thought. That's better than fifty chapters, like The Enigma's Anomaly.


End file.
